


The Moon Transcendent

by OrangeBlossoms



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Emerina | Emmeryn/Phila mentioned, F/F, Felicia/F!Corrin mentioned, Femslash February 2019, Implied Sexual Content, POV Alternating, Tethys/Marisa secondary, lesbian Maribelle, past Olivia/Azura, past Olivia/Ninian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: A traveling dancing troupe seeks shelter in Themis. The duchess invites a guest to stay. Two paths cross the night after a full moon.





	1. Follow the Road

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant for Halloween, but Femslash February works just as well. I'll be updating it throughout the month. I wouldn’t say the violence is over the top, but it’s slightly more than canon. Some story beats taken from Awakening, but diverges at various points.

_The sun was still high in the sky when the dancers returned, the bright fabric they wore like meadow flowers blooming against the forest bordering the village. Clouds casted elongated shadows onto the mountains as they drifted slowly past. She watched them as the adults decided her fate._

_A woman with a long red braid stood at the front, her arms crossed. Olivia knew her from before. Auntie Tethys, she had called herself as her mother nodded in approval. They had sent her out to play, the dancer offering her a sweet on an upturned hand, the most significant memory of her up until that point._

_The woman broke free from talking with the elders, her face shadowed as if one of the clouds had crossed over it as well. She made her way to Olivia’s side, the darkness evaporating as she smiled brightly and asked if Olivia wished to travel with them._

_Villagers stood and listened. Olivia knew them by name, had lived with many, going from home to home after her parents passed. The girl who shook when spoken to and stuttered her responses when answering back. No one stepped forward to confront the dancer or her small troupe of performers, nearly all women and girls who gathered at the sides to whisper amongst themselves. She tried to look at them, but the way everyone was watching her pulled her gaze downward into scrutinizing her feet instead._

_Tethys took her hand, gold bangles catching the sunlight as they slid down her arms, and asked if Olivia wished to go with them far, far away from the hunters’ village up in the mountains where monsters roamed and parents sometimes didn’t return. She would learn to dance just as her mother had back before she fell in love with a hunter and picked up his trade, selling her dancer’s rings to an itinerant merchant._

_“Are you sure you want to travel with another child? Ewan is handful enough,” another woman asked, gruff and unmoving, a sword at her side. Tethys stood to talk with her, taking the swordswoman’s hand to a rouge-painted cheek._

_The rest was too quiet for Olivia to hear, but Tethys kissed the her on her palm, kneeled close to Olivia and asked her again, “Would you like to come with us, Olivia? We are all a family and would be yours as well.”_

_What considerations set her course, she was unable to later recall, but she nodded mutely and for the last time, she left her village._

~*~

Everything would be easier once they moved past the forest. That’s what she told herself in repeated whispers from her perch on the wagon. Her eyes focused on the trees and slanted hillside where Marisa had disappeared, melting into the darkness as she went to investigate something only she had sensed. The first stretch had been breathless anticipation, but groups of her troupe mates huddled together and were starting to whisper, postures relaxing. A nervous giggle. A hushed scolding. Tethys glanced at a trio and the road was silent again, everyone tensing.

Olivia hadn’t had stage fright in years, but the symptoms matched in all the same places from the dry throat to her sweaty palms. Maybe if she focused on her breathing like Marisa had tried to teach her...

It had been early summer in Carcino just outside the port city when Marisa took her aside for sword training. It was warm then as well, but she shook as if the summer breeze were winter winds that cut right through her. At the time she had thought they asked her to learn swordsmanship out of pity—a distraction from her youthful woes. Nini had left her to return home with Nils, wherever that was, leaving both herself and Ewan despondent for weeks. She had thought she had grasped onto something meaningful and from time-to-time considered trying to find the siblings herself. Her heart filled with trepidation whenever those daydreamed plans organized themselves into anything too serious, a nervous part of her holding herself back.

Marisa had acted as her personal instructor, Tethys observing from the side with that catlike self-assuredness she wore like a cloak. As if everything would work out in the end, even if she had to sometimes steer things back on course herself.

_If you doubt yourself, you are dead._

_If you hesitate, you are dead._

That’s what Marisa had said before Tethys chided her for it. Olivia had never been good at new things, working with weaponry proved to be no exception. Marisa had groused over her partner’s interference, but altered her teaching methods after that. The monster sightings were rarer then, but they had received the warnings from fellow travelers and tavern owners alike even as they crossed borders. Each country was just as dangerous as the last, they said. Just as rotten down to the earth from which the dead returned. Entering into Ylisse several summers later had been no different.

This particular mountain road was ill-maintained like much of anything in Ylisse that hadn’t directly served the former Exalt’s army. The dense canopy blocked out light even during the daytime, and captured in the wet heat from heavy clouds jettisoning rains before hitting the mountain range. Each unidentifiable noise had her checking the sword at her side. It was an old blade with a faux ruby in the pommel that was worn so smooth it had lost the shape of its cut, a gift from Tethys years back when she started her training. 

The innkeeper in the last town had been the most insistent so far about the perils of monster country and in whispered tones had said it was all Plegia’s fault. As troupe leader, Tethys didn’t tend to take sides in local disputes, their performers belonging to more lands than Olivia could count on one hand. She had deftly moved the conversation on to other things. A master storyteller, Tethys wove a yarn of two brothers, young wyvern knights, fighting on opposite sides of a war. The tale had several locals weeping into their cups when only one made it out alive in the end.

“Tragic youths always capture the audience’s heart and these people have seen enough war to last several lifetimes,” Tethys had said as they retired, Olivia running over the final lines of the tale in her head. The story was one she hadn’t yet mastered and she had only heard it from Tethys herself.

The monster warnings were more than tavern stories told by attention seekers with overactive imaginations. A lone shambler at a crossroads they could handle, but they were told these woods up in the mountains sheltered far more sinister fiends. Their luck had gone south when a wagon wheel snagged in a rut caused by midsummer rains. Olivia had helped pull it free, her hands still raw from rope burn. Tethys gave them little time to recover before soldiering onward.

“Full moon tonight, my darlings. Let’s not get caught out after dusk,” she announced with a sharp clap of her hands.

Tethys might have been right to believe in Marisa who could move with a deadly feline grace, but she certainly had too much faith in Olivia who quivered, more mouse than cat, as they waited for any signs of their more reliable sword’s return. 

_You came to us from a hunting village and haven’t a clue about axe or bow or tracking beasts?_

_I know the old warding songs._

_What good will those do?_

She tapped a soft beat against the wood, her throat closing at the realization that she couldn’t remember the lyrics.

_A different life. A different time. I can’t even sing the warding songs and I’m not proven with the sword… a mistake! This is all a mistake!_

An inhuman shriek in the distance stopped her hands mid tap, the caravan deathly silent, her fellow performers turning to scan the woods as well. She spared a glance to the side to see Tethys with her dagger unsheathed. “A gift from a princeling become king” she had told her years ago when Olivia was younger and more inquisitive. Her jaw was set as she too waited for a change in the forest depths. 

After several minutes of tense stillness, the snap of a branch crushed under foot broke the silence. A indistinct shadow in the distance walked with purpose towards their caravan. Tethys was the first to respond, running towards the figure seemingly headless of potential dangers. Olivia jumped down from the wagon to follow, releasing a shaky breath upon seeing the familiar ponytail as the figure turned to look behind her, one hand clutching an injured arm.

“Marisa! You’re wounded.” Tethys choked out, dropping her playfully distant mask as she ushered Marisa back to the caravan. 

Olivia stood at the edge of the road, still waiting for signs of undead things in the murky expanse. Instead, animal life slowly crept back from the silence, a bird fluttering wings, the hum of insects. 

“It’s nothing,” Marisa replied, glancing once again over her shoulder into the growing darkness.

“Let’s set you up in the wagon and tell me what happened. We need to get to town,” Tethys said, her mouth angled sharply as if permanently stitched that way. “Olivia!”

She stood bolt upright, unaware of when her shoulders had curled inwards, a hand clutched at her chest.

“Y-yes, Tethys!” she exclaimed, gripping the sword with both hands, free of its scabbard, the tip resting near her feet. She adjusted her hold, eyes still on Tethys, and nearly dropped it onto the forest floor. Marisa glowered at her fumbling and Olivia hastily tucked the weapon back in place at her side. 

“I’ll steer the wagon,” she yelped.

Tethys offered her a tight smile and sharp nod in response.

Olivia climbed back in the seat, picking up the reins and calling softly to the mules that pulled the cart. They were as eager as the rest of their party to move on to their final destination, ears swiveling nervously in search of odd noises.

Marisa hopped up without assistance, Olivia eying a deep cut on her arm. The swordmaster could fight with either hand, a skill that apparently had been driven into her from a young age, but any injury was at the least an inconvenience. And inconvenience could tip the scales in the favor of an opponent. Olivia rubbed her own arm in sympathy. As soon as both were settled in the back, Tethys pulled out a vulnerary salve and took a seat next to Marisa who stoically accepted Tethys’ assistance in dressing the wound. 

Olivia eased the mules into a steady pace, the wagon lurching into motion as the pack animals jerked forward, needing little encouragement to move out. The rest of the troupe followed suit, Lene and Lalum chattering to each other in nervous excitement while others peered into the forest. Olivia turned behind to check on Marisa who was busy talking with Tethys as she patched up the wound with experienced care.

“A wolf,” she said as Tethys finished bandaging her arm, her fists clenched in her lap. “Huge. Followed me back, but—“

She twisted her mouth and wrinkled her nose. Tethys took one of her hands and leaned against the uninjured arm.

“But?” she pressed after a moment of silence. Tethys must have been nervous to try to push Marisa into talking.

“I think it’s smart. Like a person,” she said, brows furrowing. “It seemed like it wanted me to run.”

“It could be a necromancer’s puppet. The way they talk about these woods being cursed,” Tethys murmured with an uncharacteristic scowl. 

_We’ve had a lot of bad luck lately..._

“Hasn’t passed through death’s door yet. I would know,” Marisa proclaimed firmly as she sat up straight.

Tethys left it at that. They all trusted Marisa to know her business at the end of the day—she had cut down numerous foes as a mercenary. The taciturn swordmaster wasn’t the type to embellish her accounts.

_A wolf._

Olivia attempted to wrap her mind around the concept. Was it as big as a horse? A wyvern? Marisa said it was huge. She faced the road again, still listening in on the conversation and silently praying the wolf would keep its focus on other monsters for long enough to allow them to arrive at their next stop.

“It’s still out there. Tossed the bonewalker down like a sack of flour, like it was nothing. There were so many. One nicked me,” she said with a disdainful huff. “Some knew how to use a bow, so you’re probably right about necromancers—or worse.”

Tethys hissed her frustration, running a hand through her hair, pausing over a section that had gone white in recent months. She used to have Marisa pluck the pale strands out one-by-one and even after, she dyed it sometimes when they stopped in a city large enough to have the right supplies. Traveling to their next big gig hadn’t afforded them much opportunity to hunt down vanities and with times being as bad as they were, money hadn’t been easy to come by either. Lene liked to say she danced to bring smiles to people’s faces, but food and shelter came first for them and the audience alike.

“If it isn’t bandits, it’s beasts. You think that wolf is following us?” Tethys asked. “If it saved you, then maybe—“

“Let’s just get to town. I don’t want to stake our lives on the chance a wild animal won’t decide we’re more appetizing than musty monster bones.”

The rest of the trip was silent, everyone’s nerves worn thin by the time they arrived at the next town. They didn’t stay up to catch news at the inn or scout for information on their next destination as they normally did, Tethys charming the details from those eager for stories and attention. Olivia fell into a restless sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~*~

The next day, Tethys rounded them all up early enough that a morning mist still hung over a nearby pasture. She hoped to take advantage of as much daylight as possible. Several members of their troupe had complained over leaving so early they would miss the market. Marisa had offered to let them make their own way through the woods if they wanted to buy trinkets so desperately, effectively shutting down most further complaints. Olivia went to sit with her guardians after she packed her bag. 

“Themis is the next stop,” Tethys said, tracing her finger over a map. “Then we pass through Plegia and into Jehanna. The gala is in three weeks and we should have crossed the border a week ago.” 

“Maybe we’ll make up time in Plegia?” Olivia added, voice lilting upward hopefully. 

Tethys shook her head, Marisa interjecting.

“It’s all a mess,” she growled. “These people are a stone’s throw from an all out war. Once we get to Jehanna, we should stay awhile or head to Renais or Carcino.”

“Not Frelia?” Tethys teased, Marisa not taking the bait. They each had their old flames. At one point they had vied for the same man or so Olivia had been told, never quite building up the courage to inquire further.

“If we can get there before it snows,” Marisa said with a casual shrug and the slightest upturn of her lips.

The corner of Tethys’ eyes creased as she gave her a sly look. 

“I see you’re in a better mood this morning.”

“Maybe,” she said, feigning disinterest in the conversation.

Olivia chose then to make herself scarce, walking over to where Lalum was draped over a fence in a dramatic display of exhaustion before they had even stepped outside the town. Lalum often meant well, but she was better when a person wanted to be talked at rather than with, so Olivia steeled herself for the potential flood of chatter wondering if she had ever been this gabby when she was younger. 

_Definitely not._

“It’s hot already, Olivia. Can you believe it?” she asked, not waiting for a response as she vaulted to the next thought to cross her mind. “I’m tired of walking. I hope we stay in Jehanna forever. Tethys knows the Queen, right? Maybe we’ll get to lay on couches while servants feed us fruit,” she said, mimicking plucking and popping a grape into her mouth as they had seen in a play once where priestesses of the goddess Mila brought her offerings as she lounged at the head of her temple, unaware of impending tragedy. “I’ve heard the baths they have there are divine. They’ll serve you tea while you watch the stars at night. And the gardens! Everything is so hot and dry, but their palaces have the most luscious gardens. I can’t wait to dance there. The monsters can bang on fortress walls all they’d like and I’ll be eating grapes and dancing in the gardens under the stars!” 

She gestured with a broad sweep of her hand, suddenly full of energy again despite the aforementioned heat. Olivia wondered how she was able to breathe when she strung so many words together like that. 

The only time Olivia had witnessed the palace in Jehanna was shortly after joining the troupe. Already adjusting to a constant deluge of new experiences, the memories were hazy years later. She had been introduced to a parade of individuals who all seemed profoundly important to her untraveled eye. The clearest memories were those of Tethys and Ewan, Marisa still a frightening unknown though in retrospect she understood she was trying her best. 

Tethys taught her how to dance on the red clay paths in between the cypress trees when the shade from the tall walls still blanketed the space outside their quarters. She remembered feeding fish as big as her torso in the gardens as they all writhed at the surface of long rectangular pools, scaled bodies fat from visitors indulging their appetites. The thing that struck her the most were the palm trees that arced over the lowest fortress walls and lined the water’s edge along the silver river that ran through the capital. Growing up in the mountains, she had never considered even the trees could be so foreign.

Ewan spent his time in the library and sighed when he learned she didn’t know how to read, insisting she learn even if he had to be the one to teach her himself. He had left them over a year ago for Caer Pelyn to study under the tutelage of a brilliant young sage, a bittersweet moment for Tethys. They each had the farewells that stayed with them as members came and went, but up until that point, Olivia had never witnessed one so visibly affect their leader.

Lalum was a more recent addition to the troupe, only a few years older than Olivia had been when Tethys had taken her under her wing. She had latched onto Lene early and the two could often be found together, complaining or conspiring. This morning, Lene had been late to rise and was currently grooming herself for a trek that would doubtlessly undo any effort she put into her appearance within the first hour of walking.

Olivia continued to humor Lalum’s elaborate plans for her future residence in Jehanna, which included catching the eye of a noble who would dote over her tirelessly and ask for her hand. She would surely be disappointed once she realized much of the populace were mercenaries going from job-to-job just like the troupe.

“And you and Lene can be my maids of honor, Olivia,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “I’m sure if it’s a noble’s wedding I could afford to have two. Just promise not to show me up on my wedding day!” 

Before she could comment, Marisa appeared at her side.

“We’re leaving. You can play pretend while we walk.”

“Marisaaa,” she whined, “You already get to live your dream of stabbing things and traveling with the boss! Leave the rest of us and our fantasies alone!”

“...’Stabbing things’?” she said, stepping back. 

“Yeah, like this,” Lalum chirped, making sloppy thrusts with her hand as if she were waving around blade with dangerous inaccuracy. 

Olivia covered her mouth, eventually resorting to biting her lip though it didn’t entirely prevent her laughter. Marisa stood stunned for a moment before walking away, muttering darkly about empty-headed children. Lalum stuck her tongue out at her as soon as her back was turned yet dutifully went to stand by the wagon where the rest of the troupe was gathering. 

Tethys called them all together, issuing instructions. Olivia would be at the rear, Marisa up front and the rest of the troupe positioned in between with the wagon. They began the long trek when beams of light were just reaching past the mountain tops, the sun not quite risen. Lalum’s predictions of a hot day proved themselves true. Despite that, Olivia felt better ever since Marisa stopped to talk with her when they broke for a short lunch, having her do a few exercises and nodding at her form. It was the closest she ever got to praise, but Tethys often made up for her partner’s lack of conversation.

“I’ve picked up a few things about swords—and Marisa—over the years,” Tethys said with a slow, languid smile, “Try not to get yourself worked up and instead focus on how far you’ve come. Just like with your dancing, your nerves get in the way.” 

She had silently nodded, accepting a rag to wipe the sweat off her brow. It had been a short session, but the heat had drained her faster than normal and they still had half a day’s journey.

They continued on after that, the mood becoming more relaxed as it seemed they would arrive in Themis well before the sun set. The roads were dry as they made their way down the other side of the mountain range, a much easier task than climbing up it had been. There had been several monster carcasses carried off to the side of the road, all riddled with arrows or scarred by elemental magic, but nothing active. Someone—or several someones—had been working to clear the woods. There were no signs of the wolf either and Olivia thought they must have left it on the other side of the mountain. She was contemplating the strange occurrence from the previous day when the dogs appeared.

It all happened so quickly. Tethys shouted at the troupe to prevent them from scattering as the mules attempted to bolt, screaming in abject terror. The dogs had attacked from the back, yet Marisa was at her side in an instant, blade unsheathed. She lashed out at one of the circling animals, Olivia watching in shock.

“Olivia! Get moving!” she roared as she attacked.

She joined Marisa in the fray, unsure of her footing as the dogs moved far different than Marisa in their training. She landed several hits on their flanks, dancing out of range. Marisa jumped into assist her as she attempted to block out distractions even as Lalum’s voice could be heard above the sounds of snapping jaws and gurgled growling. The dogs lunged at each retreating step, their snarls layered with an unnatural wet sound underneath as if they too were rotting things. The fur had fallen from their faces and legs baring ashy olive skin, their tails oddly segmented and ratlike.

A late arrival raced past her towards Marisa, knocking Olivia to the ground at an odd angle, her foot twisting painfully as her eyes teared up. The sound of metal connecting with flesh. A pained screech. The ragged breath of a beast as it approached.

Terror and agony intertwined as one of the retreating dogs grabbed her leg in its maw, attempting to pull her along as it fled, a bubbling growl emerging from the depths of its throat. She fumbled with her sword, but managed to slash at its long neck, one of her blows connecting. She remembered hearing Marisa call out over her own screams before she was dropped to the forest floor. 

Tethys was at her side as she shook.

“Hey, breathe with me,” she said, her own voice unsteady as she held her hand and Marisa barked instructions, her voice uncharacteristically animated. 

Tethys had somehow managed to pull her half in her lap by the time a salve was applied, soothing away some of the pain. She dared not look at the damage. A hand gently brushed her bangs from her face, Tethys humming a song to her. 

“You fought well,” Marisa murmured as she worked. 

She discouraged several dancers from approaching with a glare just as a new round of activity burst onto the road from the surrounding woods.

The barking of an entirely different category of dog heralded the woman’s arrival on a white horse, mane curled to match its mistress’. A pack of hounds swarmed over logs and through the undergrowth before flocking to the feet of her mount. Some of the bolder animals moved close enough that they needed to dodge hooves as the mare came to a halt. Their eyes turned towards the woman who paid them little mind except to admonish them over their lack of manners. Bizarrely this resulted in an eerily sudden silence, the dogs visibly chastened. 

As she dismounted into the leaf litter of the forest floor, the hounds scattering to all sides as they sat in wait of the next command, she turned back to her mount to grip the slender neck of a healing staff and remove it from its bindings.

“A monster attack, was it? I heard your party’s distress. Now then, who is in need of healing?” she asked, loudly enough as if to defy the scattered murmurs of the troupe.

“Here, sister!” Tethys called with a wave, some of her usual verve returning at the prospect of a proper healer on the scene.

“I’ve not taken vows to Naga though rest assured, I _am_ devoted to the healing arts,” the woman responded.

Her speech was crisp and clear like the sharp crack of ice on a lake during snowmelt. She removed riding gloves and tucked them under an arm, once again turning to the dogs and shooing them away with flicks of her hands. 

“Let’s see,” she said as she kneeled on the forest floor next to Olivia, Tethys still holding her hand as Olivia angled her neck further away from the grisly condition of her leg. “I’m going to have to adjust you.”

Olivia swallowed any words she might have said in response and nodded, sucking in a sharp breath as the woman placed a hand on her calf.

“Not my preferred working environment,” she said with an alacrity that suggested she was making a joke before she stopped her movement. 

“Is everything alright?” Tethys asked, squeezing Olivia’s fingers tight enough that it offered her a brief distraction from the hands on her leg. Her vision blurred as she recognized the crimson painting her mentor’s arms up past her wrists.

Suddenly, the woman’s face came into view as she leaned over, her lips pursed and her eyes scanning Olivia’s features as if searching for an answer to a question that Olivia had no way of knowing. 

“May I ask how you received this wound?” she finally asked. “The tearing suggests a bite.”

Whether it was from the pain, the focused attention or the warm assurance of Tethys at her side, Olivia wasn’t entirely sure, but the air in the forest had grown close and hot enough to strangle.

“It was a dog, miss,” she managed, head swimming from the pain.

“Milady will do. A dog. You’re certain?”

“I th-think so, mi-milady. It happened so fast.”

“Very well. Allow me to tend to your wounds,” she said, her voice suddenly distant. “Might I ask where you are headed?” 

“Jehanna,” Tethys said.

“So, you’ll be needing to pass through Plegia,” she murmured and Olivia felt the healing magic from the woman’s staff stitch the wound together, her grip on Tethys’ hand tensing further as she clenched her teeth. Her breath released in a single rush when the sensation ended, beads of sweat trailing down her face and stinging her eyes. 

“No weight on the leg for at least a week. Have a healer check on it in the next town,” she said, casting a derisive eye over their wagon. “I suppose your… transport will have to do. Is there any chance you could delay your travel? I would house you myself.”

“Impossible,” Marisa said. Tethys interrupted with raised a hand.

“What she means is, we’re booked and running behind schedule as it is with the way the roads have been.”

The healer grimaced, eyes narrowing. 

“The roads will be worse tonight. You have witnessed some of it already. I cannot guarantee the wound will heal properly if she is jostled about for days.”

The pain had mostly vanished, but panic set in and she was certain she could feel her leg throb in time with the rapidly increasing beat of her heart.

“My leg won’t heal right?” she asked, a new terror settling in at the thought.

_A dancer with a mangled leg!_

“It’s possible. Please, allow me to assist you,” she said, looking at Tethys. 

“Why would you want to do that?” Marisa asked from where she stood behind the woman, a hand on the grip of her sword. Tethys would certainly have her head at the risky threat later, but the woman appeared unfazed.

“I have a responsibility to these woods and those who pass through them. Travelers who fall here, return unwelcome,” she said, face solemn. 

“Just who are you then?” Marisa pressed.

“Ah, I’ve grown accustomed to my reputation preceding me. Maribelle—Duchess of Themis.”

Tethys bowed from where she sat. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“As I said, milady will do. You’re still in Ylisse and I’m no Exalted One.”

The troupe descended into quiet murmurs and that was enough to get the dogs active as well. They paced between the dancers, some of whom were skittish after the attack while others cooed at the hounds fondly. The duchess herself smiled shrewdly as she returned to her horse on the side of the road, staff tucked back in place and bandages removed from her pack. She settled back next to her and Tethys who thanked her again.

“It is my duty to ensure safe passage. Please, do consider the offer,” the duchess said, meeting her gaze, “At least for an evening.”

She spoke as if compelled to do so. 

“I’d love to sleep in a real bed, Tethys!” Lalum called from the side, several other dancers descending into nervous titters over her brazen suggestion. 

Marisa shot her a withering glare that had her giggling anxiously as well. The request had the desired effect, however, and Tethys heaved a soft sigh of defeat.

“Is it a distance from town? We were hoping to restock before we cross the border,” Tethys asked.

At that moment yet another group crashed through the trees and onto the road. 

“You took off like a bolt, milady! We can’t—can’t keep up with your horse!” a man said, hands on his knees as he regained his breath. 

“What needs fighting?” said another man with a bow at the ready, “I’ll dispatch with any beasts that are left.”

“We’ve arrived too late,” Maribelle said. “We’ll be escorting them to the estate. Be on your guard. They say they were attacked by dogs.”

“Dogs’re nothin’, Milady!” the archer exclaimed before turning to the dancers, “I once fended off a whole pack of tigers. That’s why the duchess recruited me, y’see.”

The last of their party, a tall woman with a massive hammer casually balanced on her shoulder rolled her eyes with a dark laugh at the claims. Maribelle stalked over to the man, the dogs following her. 

“I recruited you because you were a drunk in need of rehabilitation,” she said, poking at the air in front of his chest with a finger as he winced despite being nearly two heads taller. She turned back to Tethys with a serene smile. “I will admit his marksmanship has proven useful, particularly against the mogalls and gargoyles.”

The man took off his hat and held it to his chest. 

“You’re ever so gracious to be acknowledging my skills—“

“Let’s get back to the estate, shall we?” she interrupted. “Before the sun sets. Assist my guests with their companion.” 

Despite the suggestion, it was Marisa who helped Olivia up onto the wagon, the effects of the healing magic slowly wearing off as she did her best to find a comfortable position as they all rode to the estate. Tethys and Marisa parted ways with them when they reached a section of the road that branched off towards Themis.

“For supplies,” Marisa said, but the exchanged glances between the two suggested there was more to their departure. 

The forest took a turn for the orderly as wild underbrush was tamed into cleared stretches of grass that abutted both sides of the road and rows of cypress lined what became a well-kept lane. The change in scenery worked as a distraction from her leg, but as soon as they came to a halt near a set of stables, she recognized the dull ache where the dog had bitten. The memory of putrid flesh and wet snarls had her shivering in the evening breeze.

The duchess took her leave with the pack of hounds in tow, not once glancing in Olivia’s direction. She placed them in the care of an expeditious steward, a woman not quite middle aged with a distant expression and a professionally detached manner of speaking. She introduced herself as Flora and instructed them all to ask for her should they need anything.

They were led to a set of rooms, Olivia transported in the arms of a manservant, much to her dismay. By the time she was placed on a bed, she realized she hadn’t paid much attention at all to the estate.

“You’re red as an apple, Olivia!” Lalum exclaimed, covering her mouth as she laughed before abruptly shifting to a more conspiratorial tone. “I’m going to stay up for Tethys! I’m sure she went to town to dig up all the dirt on this place.” Her eyes shifted towards the door as she grinned and spoke her next words in an excited whisper. “Maybe it’s haunted!”

Not in the mood for any other thoughts of monsters, corporeal or not, she slumped back against the bed. Flora had made mention of having baths drawn, their entourage erupting into tired cheers, but for Olivia it would have to wait until morning.

“I’m too tired for that kind of talk, Lalum,” she said with a wide yawn, hand covering her mouth belatedly. “I’m just… going… t’bed.”

The last sound she heard was Lalum’s voice, surprisingly solemn.

“I’m glad you’re ok.”

The sentiment warmed her even as she drifted, too far gone to respond. For the second evening in a row, she allowed exhaustion to pull her into sleep, dreams plagued by the sensation of teeth dragging across flesh.

~*~

The next morning found Tethys and Marisa at the foot of her bed with trays of food presumably collected from a servant. 

“Certainly better fare than we would have received at the inn. Where do you think the fruit comes from? Do they grow it themselves?” Tethys asked, starting with light conversation.

Despite strange dreams she could no longer remember and the fact that her mobility was limited, she had slept relatively well. 

“How are you doing?” Marisa asked, tone heavy with enough meaning that she knew to answer with a straightforward response. 

“I don’t know if I can put any weight on it,” she admitted. “Miss Flora came already and said it should heal well, if I let it.”

“We saw her ladyship again,” Tethys said, turning over some bread in her hand, “She offered to house you while we go to Jehanna, to ensure you recover. Plegia isn’t known for its healers… there’s no guarantee we could get you the proper care—“ She stopped, worry lines creasing her forehead. “We would never abandon you, Olivia.”

Olivia’s stomach dropped at this new trajectory, her appetite suddenly gone even as her stomach complained. She cleared her throat to cover it.

“You think… I should stay? I-I mean, I can. If it means my leg will um heal right and you make it to the gala. Don’t worry about me, ok?” she said, attempting to smile only for it to falter.

“I don’t like it at all,” Marisa said, tearing off a piece of bread for herself, ignoring the preserves that Tethys had slathered over her own slice.

“I asked around and she’s a lady of good repute, if sharp-tongued. They say her family has been through some legal difficulties with the halidom, but the charges were false. The late duchess passed when our hostess was just a girl. Some say it’s why she became a healer,” Tethys relayed, drinking from a glass before continuing, “She leads hunts against the monsters on the regular while still running the estate. Rumor has it she’s also got her eye on the royal judiciary. Whether for revenge or reformation--your guess is as good as mine.” 

“They knew the wolf, too,” Marisa said. “Claimed he hunts the monsters in the woods as well. That he’s been seen on both sides of the mountains. That he killed a rabid one and took its place.”

Tethys placed a hand over Olivia’s.

“We don’t want to pressure you.”

She turned her hand to take Tethys’, eying Marisa’s mouth as it slanted into a frown, and made her choice.

“It will just be a couple months at most, right?” she said, offering her best smile even as her traitorous brows knit in concern. “And better safe than sorry.”

She could be brave for a little while. The thought of riding in the wagon under the pressure of lost time was potentially even less appealing than spending part of a season in elaborate guest rooms on a lavish estate even if the idea of months with strangers caused a ball of anxiety to settle in her gut.

“Oooh, I hate all of this!” Tethys said, pulling Olivia close in a crushing hug, still managing to be considerate of her injury. “But you’ll write us in Jehanna!”

“And I’ll come back for you myself if need be,” Marisa rumbled, refusing to meet their eyes. Tethys laughed as she threw an arm around her partner who acquiesced to the move without any fuss.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Tethys whispered fiercely against her hair.

“I suppose we won’t make it to Frelia after all,” Marisa said in a deadpan voice, garnering genuine laughter from them both.

_It’s only a couple months._


	2. Stories We Tell Ourselves

She had slept most of the day after saying her farewells to the troupe. Lalum had told Olivia how jealous she was as she cried into Lene’s shoulder. The other girl gave her a sympathetic look as she sighed and patted the arm wrapped around her waist and offered her a handkerchief. Tethys had glided into the room, falsely animated as she gathered everyone up to finish packing and organizing their belongings. Olivia suspected Tethys hadn’t wanted to get overly emotional herself. Marisa waited until they were alone and slipped her a bag of coins—enough for a long stay at an inn. 

“You probably won’t need it, so I’ll want it back when we come to get you,” she declared from where she sat on the bed, one leg bent and propped over the other and swords already at her side. “Tethys’ been dying for something new and shiny. And you can help me pick it out. I’m no good at that kind of thing.”

Past gifts would suggest otherwise, but Olivia took the kindness for what it was, leaning forward to give Marisa a rare hug instead. Marisa didn’t even put up feigned resistance and that was when it truly started to sink in that her brave face earlier that morning had consequences. She managed to contain it all behind a wobbly smile when Tethys returned, promising to write as she clutched Olivia’s hands. It really was for the best in the end, she kept telling herself even if she didn’t entirely believe it. 

Hours later in the dark the lavish quarters were too empty, too stately. A reminder that she didn’t belong. She almost wished for the covered wagon or a small room at an inn. They would all be gathered around a fire by now.

She really was alone. Even more than when Ninian left—or when Azura vanished—or her parents... 

The night brought back memories and submerging herself in them seemed a more fitting option than hunting down rest when it fled so persistently. 

~*~

_Tethys had a sense for girls who found themselves in a bad way. She always waved away any prying until one day she told Olivia about blistered feet and dangerous street corners. Even then she didn’t elaborate._

The past is in the past!

_If anyone else asked why they recruited the two siblings on a tour through Elibe, Tethys would laugh and say she just had a bleeding heart for women taking care of their younger brothers. And the mysterious young lady with skin as pale as fresh snowfall happened to dance as well, her brother skilled with the flute. It really was fate that they met._

_Olivia was drawn to Ninian from the start. Each of her carefully chosen words were soft spoken in a way that was so different from all the other dancers. Even Marisa couldn’t compare, her silence often taking on a more foreboding quality._

_Some nights she would tell Olivia stories of a place far away where it was always winter and the people lived forever. Of a man who fell in love with one of its people. She talked of a time long ago when dragons lived among humans before calamity and war separated them._

_They held hands when they danced in the snow, Nini’s breath wispy and uneven as she laughed. She was quiet during long travel days and slept more than the others, her brother Nils snapping like a thorny old wyvern at whoever commented or questioned._

_That’s why she had to leave. They weren’t meant for this place, her and Nils. Not when the air warmed and the thickest layer of ice thawed. Returning to Elibe had been a mistake. Olivia didn’t ask what she was trying to say by that. The possibility of Nini refusing to explain seemed worse than the uncertainty of not knowing. Not for the first time, she wished she were braver._

_The day before they left, Nini spent it with her as if she were the only person in all the world. Or maybe it was just to say sorry, an unspoken apology over time spent on something that was destined to end prematurely. She wouldn’t have done things differently, Olivia had promised. Her cheeks bloomed hot and red when she didn’t get a response. She still remembered that much even though it had been years. What a mismatch. She had thought if she acted earnestly and true enough—_

_She wasn’t ready to cry over something that hadn’t happened yet, but Tethys always said she wore her heart on her sleeve. Nini hushed her, linked their fingers and told her one last story, her hands cold and soft against Olivia’s own. Two dragons were far from home and wanted more than anything to return even if it meant saying farewell to the friends and family they made along the way. The traveled far until they found the gate to their world again. It was a happy ending, she insisted, as if attempting to convince herself._

_She couldn’t abandon her brother, Ninian finally said, tears like rime on the corner of her eyes._

I have to go. 

_Olivia told her it was alright, a hand stroking Ninian’s hair, too timid to touch the exposed skin of her shoulder._

Maybe we’ll meet again.

_Ninian’s smile was sadder than normal that night._

~*~ 

The drapes hadn’t been shut completely. A sliver of moonlight had crept into the room during the brief period of restless sleep. 

The nature of the troupe meant members joined and left. A panicky whisper caused her to question if she was the one leaving this time. Somehow always the one left behind even if she had pushed the decision. 

She slowly rolled over on her side, careful not to jostle her leg too much and pulled a blanket over her mussed hair. It was sure to be in tangles and there was no Lalum around to exchange a good brushing for an extended chat session. Maybe she would start braiding all of it like Tethys often did. She would hum to herself as her hands worked, songs they picked up along their travels, from taverns and courts, lyrical gifts from rivals and dear ones alike. 

~*~

_Azura disappeared one day like morning mist swept away by the rising sun._

_Their time with each other had been short, but intense. The singer joined them on a trek to Cyrkensia across the shadowed lands of Nohr, claiming to have family who graced the stage of the Nestrian opera house._

_Olivia was happiest when they sang together, dipping their legs in a cool mountain stream or hoisting their traveling clothes up in both hands as they buried their toes in wet sand, the waves from the sea lapping at their ankles. They found a quiet place in the dunes, Azura’s fingers in her hair and Olivia’s on her back. Tethys had shot her a knowing look when they wandered back, hand-in-hand, their clothing still askew and her smile lopsided in an equally disheveled way. She couldn’t properly rearrange her features into something more painfully self-conscious—more her—if she tried._

_At the water’s edge, Azura sang the same lonely hymn every time. After she left, Olivia only remembered it in dreams. When she asked Tethys later, she said it was in a language she had never heard before and raised a brow when Olivia denied it._

_A song that tasted like ocean water and drew a person in until they were drowning in it._

~*~

Flora had come and gone. Her only entertainment was looking out the window, drapes drawn open to let in the light. A long beam slowly shifted its way across the carpet and by the end of the week she could tell when each meal would arrive based on the angle of it.

A flowering vine crept along the edges of the closest window and bees visited with a steady regularity, their small forms swaying as they flew between blossoms. She later learned there was an apiary on a far end of the estate near a row of trees and spent some time wondering at the thought that the grounds were their own town in miniature complete with a kitchen staff and small shrine to the regional deity.

The rooms themselves were relatively cool even during the height of the day when the hum of insects brought to mind the sweltering woods she had just traversed. A good part of one afternoon was dedicated to staring at the elaborate moulding on the ceiling and imagining what other guests had slept in these quarters clearly meant for far more important residents than a traveling dancer. 

Much of the first week was spent that way—vacillating between idle ponderings, boredom and dwelling in bittersweet memories. Marisa and Tethys had left at her own insistence and a part of her feared it would be the last time she saw them. Anything could happen between Themis and the Jehanna Court. But Marisa herself had promised to travel to retrieve her if the troupe remained in the desert nation and she wasn’t the kind of person to make promises lightly. 

Her hostess treated her as a guest. Food and clothing—high-necked dresses that constrained movement more than she was accustomed to—were provided. She was granted access to portions of the estate that she began exploring during her second week, starting with the gardens which were a marvel in and of themselves. One of the older staff lamented that they had lost their magnificence when the duke passed on, the previous groundskeeper leaving without notice. 

“Everything’s grown wilder since the Duke was taken from us,” the woman had claimed, shaking her head as she massaged a hand— _old, aching bones_ , she had muttered before returning her focus to the deceased. “Naga bless him!” 

Most of her needs were handled by the steward who doubled as her healer at the start of her stay. Olivia had assumed she would be visited by the lady of the house to attend to her leg, which still ached and made movement difficult, but she remained mysteriously absent. The steward told her the duchess spent her evenings on the hunt, fixing her with a disapproving look at the question. She avoided inquiring after that.

The idleness was unsettling as was the lack of conversation, particularly when her mobility was limited. Olivia took meals alone or with the staff, continued to make solitary trips to the gardens and found an area outside for evening practice. Most individuals she encountered kept to themselves, including the steward who was distantly formal, but not impolite. By the third week Olivia was nearly recovered enough to dance again, but also entirely lonely. The thought of forging out on her own to Jehanna was more chilling than the lack of interaction, however, so she built up the courage to ask the steward for supplies.

“Would it be possible to have some letter writing materials? I just want to let my troupe know I’m alright,” she asked as the steward surveyed her injury. The scarring was remarkably faint and she knew she had both the immediate attendance of the duchess and the regular inspection of Flora to thank for it.

“Ah,” Flora said with a frown, her brows furrowed, “I could acquire it for you, but I couldn’t spare the time for you to dictate it to me. There are clerics in town who could and I suppose you are recovered enough to make the trip.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I can write it myself.”

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as Flora failed to completely cover her surprise.

“Very well then. I will make sure you receive what you need today. I would recommend the long tables in the library for writing though if the duchess is working, do not disturb her.”

“The library?” she asked, having avoided any corridors and doors not explicitly shown to her.

The steward opened her mouth, seemed to think better of whatever it was she planned to say and started anew.

“I will take you there myself when we are finished. You are not to reshelve items. The staff who are familiar with the collection’s organization will do so. The duchess detests disorder.”

The more she heard about the duchess and the less she saw of her, the more she was grateful to have avoided her thus far. Flora rattled off several other restrictions and Olivia decided then and there that the initial visit would be more about looking rather than touching anything. 

She was pleased to find the library wasn’t situated too remotely from the guest quarters. They had stopped along the way, Flora disappearing into a room and suddenly reappearing out another set of doors further down the hall with an assortment of writing implements and paper. Olivia clutched them to her chest, nervous over the ink. She thanked Flora when she directed her the last bit of the way, taking her leave to attend to some business or other with the same unhurried efficiency she seemed to maintain for every task.

When she entered the library, she wasted no time in setting her supplies down on an empty table before allowing herself a moment to enjoy the view. The shelves were all flush against the far wall away from the windows and presumably safe from the light. A stack of books had been placed on the table next to hers in an orderly pile, largest volumes on the bottom. Curiosity got the better of her and she glanced at the empty doorway before walking over. The top manuscript was a bestiary. She opened the cover to find a series of notes in a flowing script. 

_Onset of sickness is almost always immediate (see CHW pp. 44-50; TWC &L vol. 3, pp.55-58 for notable exceptions). Symptoms include fever, chills, shortness of breath, muscle ache, fatigue, loss of appetite, photosensitivity. Transformation occurs on the first full moon, but may occur earlier based on the accounts from the Western Isles (see TWC&L vol.2, pp. 202-204). _

Muffled discussion drew her attention and she snapped the cover shut only to send the notes flying with the rush of air. She snatched them off the table and slid them back into the volume before taking her seat with the supplies and pretending to be busy. She exhaled slowly as two women passed, both lamenting over the state of clothing that needed mending. 

Her gaze wandered over to the stacked books again. The duchess hunted monsters. It made sense she would study them as well. None of it was her business. Not really. She would continue to keep her head down and enjoy the freedom she had been given. All told it was almost too much. She was beginning to consider asking Flora if she could accompany her to town to assist with any errands. Tethys always warned against going new places alone and while some of the staff had grown friendlier with her, it was only to the extent of small chat. At the very least the library had opened up new realms of discovery. 

Based on her previous days at the estate, there would be plenty of time for exploration later, so she set herself down to write. The first letter was addressed to Marisa and Tethys. When that was complete, she wrote to Ewan, detailing some of the more dramatic moments of their travels. Before the situation on the roads had deteriorated, Tethys used to talk about visiting her brother. She revealed she knew the Pontifex’s niece in neighboring Rausten and could perhaps swing a favor in the form of housing or work for some deeds from a hinted at past life when the troupe had only been a distant dream. Ewan had attempted to ruin the mystery by telling Olivia tales of the supposed end of the world, but his tendencies towards boastful exaggeration paired with Marisa’s unwillingness to confirm nor deny any details, meant both Marisa and Tethys’ history remained as puzzling as ever. 

The letters had her so engrossed that she never heard anyone enter until the duchess greeted Olivia and caused her to knock over some supplies as she scrambled to right the inkwell. The imposing form loomed over the table and Olivia belatedly remembered to stand and attempt a proper greeting. Tethys had shown them all some etiquette at various points as it was necessary knowledge for some of the jobs they took on as a troupe. 

“Good d-day, milady,” she stammered with a bow that she prayed was deep enough for a duchess.

“Good heavens. I didn’t intend to startle you,” she said, lip curling into a frown and the rest of her words seemingly more for herself. “Though I do suppose I walk with dainty, stealthy steps.”

Her speech was different than anyone else she had heard talk in Ylisse, different from the steward as well. Olivia could sense her eyes on her, her own gaze firmly fixed on the table to their side. 

“No need to stand at attention. I’m only here to retrieve some items I had set aside earlier,” the duchess said, a layer of irritation underlying her voice. She swiftly gathered the stack of books that Olivia had examined earlier before passing her on the way to the door. She paused as the set of pages strewn across the table caught her eye.

“Oh! You know your letters,” she said, clutching her books more closely to her chest as she wrapped her free arm around the spines. 

“Erm yes. Tethys’ brother taught me.”

“How lovely. Is he a scholar perchance?”

”Oh, er, I think so?” she said, unsure if Ewan had ever referred to himself or his master as such. His emphasis was always on the tomes. “He studies magic.”

“In Ylisstol?”

“Caer Pelyn.”

The duchess nodded slowly.

“Are you recovering well?” she asked after a pause, something strange about the pitch of her voice, but Olivia answered before she could consider the change fully.

“Yes, thank you. A um a bit stiff some mornings, but o-oh! Not that I’m complaining. Miss Flora does a wonderful job.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, a tight smile tugging at her lips, her gaze cold and sharp. “Do not hesitate to report any concerns you might have to her. I must be going. Good day, Miss Olivia.”

She turned and left, waving her farewell with a flick of her wrist as the clack of her boots on the wood floor accompanied her exit. Olivia didn’t know what to make of the brief encounter except to worry over vague warning pangs of unease.

~~*~~

After the chance meeting in the library (and despite her nerves), she couldn’t help but watch for the duchess. Olivia caught glimpses of her from afar, down corridors or on the lawns astride the same white mare she had arrived on during their initial hectic introduction in the woods. She wore reds and pinks and greens, but never blue. The closest she ever got was a rich purple dress with with elaborate embroidery that had Olivia anticipating additional guests, but as far as she knew, the duchess had spent the entirety of that day in the library, this time with legal tomes based on the books that had been left out on the tables. Olivia had leaned over a stack to read the spines and failed to decipher much of their contents beyond broad strokes. 

The only consistency in her behavior towards her was that she never approached Olivia, instead looking through her as if she were the estate’s live-in ghost. Flora would sometimes share with Olivia the duchess’ regards from afar, often paired with inquiries over her health, which had steadily improved to the point that she finally decided to bring her dance practice outside.

Other patterns emerged as she continued to grow accustomed to the ebb and flow of manor life. The duchess never hosted other guests over night despite the initial impression she gave by inviting the entire troupe to stay. All audiences were held in the late afternoon and based on the snippets of conversations Olivia overheard from the staff, the duchess was a late riser and worked into the dead of night. She dined alone in her rooms and would disappear for days at a time, presumably on business that was outside of Olivia’s purview. 

She was just a dancer, after all, lodging in Themis at the continued mercy of her hostess.

~~*~~

When she received her first letter from Tethys, she wept once she was alone in the safety of her rooms, pushing it to the side before her tears could blur Tethys’ uneven hand. Even Marisa had signed her name using so much ink that the lines wavered and left an impression on the folded backside of the page. She wrote another in response, certain it would never arrive in time to reach them before they left Jehanna. Tethys must have sent notice to Ewan because less than a week later, she received a message from him as well, his nearly illegible scrawl announcing the sender before she could even begin to attempt to read its contents. 

_Master Saleh has taken me to an audience with the manakete in the woods. They looked like people for the most part. Monsters lurk there, but the situation has greatly improved over the past several years._

Perhaps they had all moved southeast to Ylisse and Plegia, she wondered later in the evening. She shuddered at the memory of snapping jaws, a hand reflexively reaching for her leg. There were pale marks that remained, but she had eased back into her practice, finding a quiet space that was well-lit at night. The skies were mostly clear that evening, thin gray clouds passing silently in front of an almost full moon.

A staff member had claimed that it had been months since fiends had made it as far as the estate grounds, speculating that it was the wolf that kept them at bay. The way the staff talked about the creature was so peculiar and gave the impression the beast truly did have an understanding of human ways. Stranger yet was the certainty it was female despite its size and reported ferocity when it came to other monsters. She had heard about it enough times even on her walks to town that she had started to make, often accompanying Flora or another staff member, that she eventually adopted the mindset herself.

She stretched an arm behind her head holding it in place for a count before moving onto warm up exercises. Dancing helped her feel alive again, as if she had a purpose. If there had been a definitive end point to her stay in Themis, it would have been easier. She could check off the days and return to the troupe, giving up the comfortable bed and rich food of the estate without a second thought. 

Lalum would once again regale them all with her wild fantasies and Tethys would braid her hair as she told them stories, pins pinched between her lips meant for securing unruly locks. Her hand swept the ground in a slow arc as her dancing took on the same melancholy air as her reminiscing. She allowed herself to fall into the depths of it as she performed in the hazy shadows just outside the reach of the lanterns.

Like a ghost in the night, the wolf’s sudden presence startled her out of her thoughts and her movements, her trained feet catching her before she stumbled. They both froze a moment, the wolf standing a worryingly short distance away from Olivia. The beast was as Marisa and others had said, larger than any normal wolf. She murmured to herself the recollection of Marisa’s words. 

Without a sound, the wolf sat. Whatever the the creature was, Olivia was inclined to believe Marisa’s assessment on her intelligence—even more so than the descriptions from the steward and rest of the house staff. There were tales of foxes and dragons, both friendly and fearsome, who would sometimes seek out human company. Wolves stood apart. They could be as clever as any fox, but twice as hungry. Sheep killers and shepherd eaters, defying princes and mages alike. They ran in packs, but this one—and Olivia was certain this visitor and Marisa’s wolf were one and the same—traveled companionless. Some in town had suspected she was a spirit, but as the wolf sat, eying Olivia her askance, she appeared every bit as corporeal as any other creature she had witnessed during her travels. 

In accordance with several stories, she dipped low into a bow in order to offer a respectful greeting. The wolf continued to sit, calm and unbothered, so she decided to test her luck further by responding with the same casual, but not unfriendly, disregard. 

She returned to her practice, aware of her unusual audience’s gaze. When she paused after a time, sweat gathering on her brow in the nighttime air, the wolf was in the process of quietly vanishing into the darkness as silently as she had arrived, leaving behind no trace that she had visited at all.

The entire encounter stuck with her all night and into the next day. Unable to contain herself as she waited for Flora to finish a task, she tested the waters with what she hoped would be a simple enough question.

“Miss Flora?” she asked, the woman pausing in her movement. “Have you ever seen the wolf?”

He shoulders tensed.

“What wolf are you talking about? There are many beasts and dogs that roam the woods,” she said, her back to Olivia as she turned to fold the linens.

If there had been more conversation partners, Olivia would have sought them out. The kennel boy was friendly enough and allowed her to pet the dogs, but he was still a child. The house staff always had a sense of standoffishness about them that even when they could converse pleasantly, Olivia never shook the outsider status that clung to her. Flora was much the same. She would check in on her and talk with her, but as soon as Olivia broached an unwelcome thread of conversation, the room would grow cold, the mood withering like the last fall blooms at the first sign of frost. Perhaps something of Marisa had rubbed off on her as she stubbornly pushed forward when she would have previously dropped the conversation. 

“The one they talk about in the town. The golden one,” Olivia continued, rubbing her arms at the sudden draft. 

“Many who live in Themis have seen the wolf,” she said, non-committal, folded fabric draped over her arm as she made her way to the door.

“Marisa saw her before we arrived,” Olivia explained, “I was curious if she ever traveled to Themis.”

“I would consider witnessing her a good omen. She keeps the beasts who feed on human flesh away. Now, you said you needed some thread—“

It was only after the steward had left that Olivia realized Flora had never answered the initial question. She decided then that the wolf and her sojourn to the manor would be a marvel she would keep to herself. Her thoughts continued to wander as she made repairs to her dancer’s rings.

~*~

The next evening found her in the same location at the same time, more than a little hopeful to catch sight of the supposedly auspicious visitor. Just as before, the wolf appeared without warning. This time she waited quietly in the grass at a far enough distance to give the illusion of safety. 

The routine continued for several days, the wolf settling in to watch for a time before loping back to the forest. At the end of the week she paused to return the consideration, the wolf’s ears twitching, her head resting on crossed paws. Olivia took several steps forward, muscles taught, warning her to turn back. The wolf raised her head a moment before lowering it again and closing her eyes as her ears flicked in Olivia’s direction. 

The steady rise and fall of her side gave off the impression she was merely asleep. Olivia came to a halt several strides away and waited—for courage or a reaction, she wasn’t sure, but the latter occurred first. The wolf lifted herself up and padded towards her, her form even larger than Olivia had guessed. Certainly taller than a horse. It was no wonder the bone walkers gave her no trouble. Her fur shone more silver than gold in the moonlight, but Olivia could still see how she had gained her epithet. 

Far past the point of no return, she gulped as the wolf slowly lowered her head within reach, deliberately taking care not to startle. Olivia understood the invitation for what it was. With a pounding heart and a trembling hand, she reached out to touch the thick fur around her neck, surprised to feel the wolf gently push back. Olivia admired the plush coat and restrained movements. She looked like she could crush the neck of a wyvern in her jaws yet seemed to enjoy her dancing and patiently allowed her to stroke her fur. Not wishing to overstay her welcome, Olivia retracted her hand and stepped away, a sudden inspiration taking hold.

“I’d like to create a dance for you, Miss Wolf,” she said, smiling. “Now that we are perhaps friends.” She looked to the side, thinking. “I wish I had a name for you, but you don’t seem the kind of being who would allow anyone to name them.”

It was always best to be polite to spirits and friendly beasts whether they could talk back or not. The wolf showed no signs of starting a conversation, instead sitting and turning to face the waning moon. Olivia sat as well, fingers tangling in the grass that grew wilder the closer they were to the edge of the woods as she hugged her knees to her chest. For a brief time, the aching solitude left her as her companion, a steady warmth at her side, joined her in gazing at the night sky. There were no expectations or demands. No worries over embarrassing herself. She had taken a risk, possibly a foolish one, but the quiet company seemed worth it in the end. The wolf would leave again and she sighed at the thought, but the wonder would stay. A large ear flicked in her direction and she spoke again.

“Do you ever get lonely by yourself at night?” she asked and then laughed softly into a hand. “I guess you can’t answer that. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately. Maybe you have a family somewhere. I do, but they’re so far away.” 

All at once the beast stood, glancing at her in a brief moment of indecision as she then looked towards the woods. Perhaps she had said something to offend, some unfortunate turn of phrase or movement that translated between them to have pushed her into leaving again. Her perspective shifted, however, when the wolf turned to her, pressing against her and nearly bowling her over. Her arms steadied herself as they reached for the fur around her neck again and the beast’s head drew close to her own, rubbing against her face as she buried her fingers in the dense coat. All too soon the wolf pulled away to leave, looking back at her over her shoulder as her graceful steps turned into something strange and wonderful. Olivia laughed as she recognized the shift in her stride.

Previously the wolf had raced off to whatever business called to her in the forest and mountains, sparing no further time nor attention once she had decided to leave. That night under the moonlight, she danced for her in return, pausing at the edge of the trees as if reluctant to go before she melted into the darkness. 

~*~

It must have been the traps that convinced her to engage in this madness. She couldn’t bear the thought of the one individual who didn’t seem to mind her company getting injured in that way. 

She had volunteered to assist with the hunts. A part of her was internally panicking over her foolish, eager to please tendencies. Of all the things to keep her occupied—

“No need to be so nervous, Miss Olivia! You’ll be accompanied by veterans today,” the duchess said from where she sat on her horse. 

In complete contrast to the mood in the library weeks ago, the woman smiled at her, all her ire thus far that morning directed squarely at bandits and unwelcome beasts. Whether it was the change in behavior or something else, Olivia could only respond with a weak nod of her own, somehow unable to find the words in the face of the duchess’ sudden attention. Despite all the newness, the sword at her side was the same ruby blade and she rested a hand on the pommel, taking comfort in its familiarity.

As they waited for the other members of their party, wind rustled the trees at the cross road. The crisp air was the first sign of a changing season. For that she was grateful as it sounded as though there would be a long trek to the destination site to clear out leghold traps from the undergrowth as well as anything else more sinister that might be lying in wait of less prepared passersby. 

Flora had found her attire more fit for the kind of activity the patrol would require. Her traveling clothes would have sufficed, but the steward had pursed her lips at that suggestion and brought her what appeared to be a fresh set of riding pants and a shirt anyway. A horse had been offered, but she had balked at the thought of attempting to not only ride in such company, but fight alongside them while mounted as well. 

She was relieved when the others arrived to find they all planned to travel by foot. By the time they reached a forested stretch near the border, she wasn’t the only one in need of a break. Despite the energy required, the walk had done wonders for her spirits as had observing the idle chatter between what appeared to be old companions. They were the same group that had traveled with the duchess during Olivia’s first evening in Themis and she had grown self-conscious when they all expressed their relief at her recovery. 

“It’s why we do what we do, Miss!” the archer had said, the blacksmith suggesting the coin was just as strong a call to arms for the man who took the jab in stride.

Their attentions had then shifted to the duchess, welcoming her back from what sounded like an extended leave. It was a curious thing as she was fairly certain staff had mentioned at various points that the duchess had been away on hunts during Olivia’s stay.

As they worked, traps were gathered and placed on a medium-sized cart that the blacksmith herself had pulled. The only signs of revenants were the scattered bones of several walkers and some Risen that Olivia worked with the blacksmith to dispatch. They too were loaded for later disposal.

“We do not want them back,” the man with a club the likes of which she had never seen before said as he tossed a the pieces of a shattered skull onto the pile.

Hours after their departure, they returned to the crossroads, one direction heading towards the town, another to the mountains to the east and a final road to the estate. 

“Can we expect her ladyship to grace us with her presence again?” the archer asked. 

“Perhaps,” she responded, “You will be summoned if that’s the case. Otherwise, carry on as you normally would. Excellent work today as usual.”

“Will you and Miss Olivia be joining us for some drinks in town?” the blacksmith asked.

While the idea was nice, the exhaustion of going from little activity to being occupied all day was beginning to wear her down.

“I fear I have business to attend to, but if we are able, I will send word,” the duchess replied. 

They waved their farewells, heading back towards the town. The soft jangle of tack startled Olivia as she turned to see the duchess dismount.

“My apologies if you wished to join them. I could always send you with an attendant, but I couldn’t help but notice that the return journey was more difficult. I hope today wasn’t too draining for you.”

“Oh, I’m alright,” Olivia insisted.

“You should ride the rest of the way,” the duchess asserted. “Flora says you have been making the walk into town without any difficulty, but I hadn’t fully considered how taxing this would be.”

“I guess it would be nice to give my feet a break, if that’s ok,” she conceded, not entirely convinced, but also not wishing to decline. “But I’ve enjoyed going out. Today as well. I’m not used to staying in one place so long,” she explained.

“I see. I suppose I used to travel more myself,” the duchess admitted with a frown. She quickly freed herself from whatever preoccupation had taken hold and beckoned Olivia with a hand.

They found a felled tree to use as a mounting block for Olivia as inexperienced with horseback riding as she was. The duchess helped her up with a surprisingly solid heft of her arms, Olivia’s feet finding the stirrups as she attempted to sit up straight in the saddle. The horse remained still throughout the process and ambled forward alongside the duchess after she confirmed that Olivia was comfortable, the woman complimenting both horse and rider. 

“If you need more help in the woods, I wouldn't mind accompanying the hunters again,” she said, surprised at her willingness to venture out in search of danger again.

“I will keep the offer in mind,” the duchess said, turning to look up at her in the late afternoon light.

Her worries from that morning seemed a continent away and the thought of a future expedition didn’t strike fear in her heart in the same way. It was the duchess herself who broke the silence making an offer of her own.

“I don’t suppose you would like to join me for tea tomorrow?” she asked, not nearly as assertive as before.

“Tomorrow?” she asked, fumbling for a response. “Oh, I—that is—well, yes. That sounds lovely.”

“Three ‘o clock. I will send Flora for you,” she stated primly, recovering from her more tentative tone.

“Yes! O-of course! I won’t be late.”

She spent the rest of the ride to the estate considering what she could wear and how advisable it would be to petition the steward for help.

~*~

Tea hadn’t panned out quite like she had hoped. Eventually Flora brought her a tray, informed her the duchess had urgent matters to attend to and left her in a drawing room alone. She picked at the sweets and small sandwiches, deflated, but not distressed. That came during dinner when staff whispered that the duchess was missing. 

“She’s come home late before,” one of the house staff said over her bread before the group she sat with shushed her, an older man looking over his shoulder at Olivia who flushed and glanced away.

After that point, dinner was an exercise in feigned interest in her plate despite a rapidly declining appetite. She retreated to her rooms early and somehow managed to fall asleep. When she woke up, it was still pitch black out when she went to check past the drapes, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to return to sleep. Deciding not to spend the morning tossing and turning, she changed in the dark and made her way to her spot on the back side of the estate, stretching as the first rays of light peeked over the mountain range in the east. Night practice was her preferred, but this seemed like a good way to work off restless nerves. 

Baying from the kennels had her shedding the last holds of drowsiness, her first instinct to retreat back inside as her mind raced to think of the closest entryway. A figure cut through the morning mist, its gait uneven. The wolf had arrived and as their eyes met, it collapsed in the yard. Everything after that happened so quickly. She called for help, only wondering after if she had put the wolf in danger by doing so. Yellow wisps of magelight burned in the lanterns that lined the front path. Several members of the morning staff poured into the yard and made their way to the crumpled form on the grass, Olivia tentatively following with them. Flora carried a robe and a staff, her steps for once hurried. 

“You should return to your rooms, Miss Olivia,” she suggested, but didn’t press the point even as Olivia continued to accompany the small group.

As they arrived at the side of the wolf, the sun had begun to light the grounds. Without any signs of fear or hesitation, the steward raised the staff over the prone figure and muttered the proper incantations under her breath. She gently placed a woman’s garment complete with lace rimmed cuffs over the torso, blood from the wounds soaking through and staining the robe where it made contact with injuries, the color catching her eye and drawing it to a slick line of fur around the wolf’s muzzle that trailed down the neck. The source of the gore appeared to be a deep cut along the lower jaw. Flora’s magic sealed the wound, some of the mess remaining.

The glare of the sun drew her attention back to the mountains marking the border into Plegia. With the sunrise, the monsters would seek refuge in the deepest parts of the forest. Or so the duchess had claimed.

_But what of the wolf?_

A high keening noise interrupted her thoughts as the wolf all at once stood.

“It’s best if you look away for this part, Miss Olivia,” said the steward with a sad smile as she turned her back.

The whines turned to whimpers accompanied by discomforting popping and rasping. Suddenly the voice was all too recognizable as Olivia’s head whipped back to see the duchess on all fours, robe suddenly much too large still draped over her shoulders as her arms shook and she gulped back air through tear-filled gasps. 

She fell again, Olivia instinctively moving to catch her only for the steward to swoop down first.

“That was worse than normal, milady. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up,” she said, cradling the duchess in her arms, the remaining staff watching solemnly before they all turned to head inside.

“Meet me in the study, Miss Olivia,” she said coolly. “We shall take breakfast together.”

There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before and Olivia stepped back as the steward adjusted her hold on her liege, the form in her arms murmuring softly. The oversized garment covered most of the woman, but signs of old wounds crossed an arm that hung limply at her side. 

“Yes, Miss Flora,” she whispered, tearing her gaze away from them both to focus on something, anything else and settling on one of the side entrances where she planned to make her escape.

She had so many questions and no way of safely asking if Flora’s tone was any indication. As she stood temporarily paralyzed in one of the halls shortly after, the staff having scurried off to their morning responsibilities, she considered running away into the morning light and distancing herself from the manor and its secrets.


	3. Daughter of Woe

The thief’s confession sent from authorities in Southtown arrived a day too late. The courier complained of winged gargoyles harrying his flight as he crossed mountains in the west. Not even the Exalt could prevent the official’s ruling. Emmeryn had attempted to delay the sentencing, but the stability of Ylisse was tenuous despite all her work rebuilding after generations of war. Meddling in the business of the judiciary when Emmeryn wasn’t like her father and had publicly rejected his strong arm methods time and again would unravel all the hard-earned trust built over her tenure as Exalt. 

In theory, Maribelle understood the precarious situation the Exalt found herself in, but she held out hope for an exception, a last minute savior despite her disappointment with the highest human authority of the halidom and paralyzing dread over her father’s seemingly inexorable fate. 

She was allowed her farewells in lavish guest quarters fit for someone of her father’s station. It was no stone floor covered in dirt on which they stood when she saw him one final time, but plush carpeting. She sat in her chair across from his feeling much like a dog at the end of its chain, yearning to bridge the gap, but unable to move forward, choking itself in its own futile endeavor. 

“You must rise to the occasion,” he had said. As she had always, always done what she was asked, she acquiesced in the moment only later regretting they hadn’t said talked of other things besides an inherited legacy. Perhaps even then she was holding out hope they would meet again. 

Layer-by-layer, she shed her youthful misconceptions of virtue and righteousness. Lissa’s pleas to her sister also proved ineffectual, her countenance stricken as Maribelle relayed the news of her father’s impending execution in a voice laced with fear and stretched thin and wispy as cobwebs after nights without proper rest, each stage of the process further shattering her resilience.

When the letter arrived, the wounds still fresh, the entire affair was revealed to be a plot against her House by nobles secretly allied with Plegia. It had been an attempt to weaken borders that were already hard pressed due to a suspicious resurgence of bandits filtering over from their westerly neighbor. 

She stood ashen-faced before the Exalt as a formal apology was granted. Her silence was requested as various actors moved to round up those implicated in the letter. Her father would be buried in Ylisstol as an honor to his memory. She might have fought for him to return to Themis as a final resting place if she had been able to fully comprehend what was said in the moment, but it wasn’t until later that she was able to process it.

Had it been any other family, Maribelle would have spoken with the same level of vitriol she reserved for her most ardent critics. Instead, there was a murmured apology about having work to do at home in the west, the rest of the audience abstract in her memory. All she knew was that she didn’t want her pity, couldn’t cry in front of the Exalt, and that nothing was what she considered fair or just anymore. 

She flinched as Emmeryn, kind and wise beyond her years, touched her shoulder and moved to embrace her not as the Exalt, but as a family friend. Instead of returning the gesture, she bowed, accepted the papers posthumously pardoning her father and returned to Themis. An escort was provided to her headed by two young knights of distinct temperaments. Both awkwardly attempted to reach out to her in their own ways, but left her to her own devices as soon as she made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested in socializing. She didn’t say goodbye to the princess, only sending a contrite letter weeks later when she could finally bring herself to pick up a quill and write.

Ylisstol had become a poison to her and what had once seemed an isolated backwater cut off from the capital by long roads and a mountain range transformed into her haven. 

When news of the executions of the co-conspirators, traitors to the crown, reached her, she nodded at the letter delivered via a clumsy fledgling Pegasus knight who nearly tripped over her own feet as she relayed the message. With no response to give—silence befitted justice come too little too late—she continued on with her work as the abruptly ascendant head of House Themis, her mother contained in hazy memories from a time before they lost both her and a younger brother. 

When Lissa extended to her an invitation to join Lord Chrom’s militia, she declined, expressing her need to safeguard the border after a recent surge in nighttime monster attacks and ongoing skirmishes with brigands. Themis was stretched too thin and the halidom had already taken so much. She considered dictating her thoughts to her secretary, but she ultimately decided Lissa deserved a response by her own hand. Despite a renewed sense of good will as she read the princess’ letter several times over, it took three attempts to wring the bitterness from her words and write a proper missive where she expressed her sincerest regrets over refusing the generous offer to allow her to lay her life down in the name of gods and country. 

_Your Royal Highness,_

_My hopes of communicating this message in person have grown distant as the mountain paths have not only become hazardous due to early snowfall, but have seen an increase in attacks from fiends of late. We lost a good soul just last week to the revenants that mill about the forest near the town cemetery. The stones placed on top of the graves have proven ineffective as a long-term solution as have the blessings from a monk on pilgrimage though they were a welcome respite while they lasted. Certainly Ylisstol has other pressing concerns._

_It is a great honor and comfort that you should think of me even in these trying times. I fear, however, that I must decline your offer as the border continues to suffer repeated attacks. I now ride in the woods myself as we can scarcely afford to lose more of our own, whether to the axes of ruffians turned to banditry or the beasts that stalk the night._

_May Naga protect you and yours just as I secure the border here in the west . Your own kind words are infinitely precious to me and I shall treasure them even as the shadows grow long and the days short._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Maribelle_  
_Duchess of Themis_

As the request hadn’t come from the Exalt, but rather an old companion, she sent her reply with the certainty there would be no repercussions of consequence with the exception of a faded friendship.

~*~ 

It had taken considerable effort to get the manor house back into a functioning estate. When she had returned from Ylisstol, several staff members had tendered their resignations or simply left without notice and the steward, who had been planning on retiring for several seasons by that point, had fallen ill. As the news of her father’s exoneration hadn’t spread until after the true culprits faced justice, neighboring families who weren’t implicated by the thief’s letter had little to say when she reached out in hopes of a recommendation of some individuals with experience. 

Where Flora had come from was something of an enigma. The snowy wastes northwest of Ferox were home to tribes with minor gifts in ice magic, but she had tended to a fortress in Nohr and had fought their own breed of revenants on more than one occasion. A traveler passing through Themis, which was slowly growing into a hub for trade as the Exalt continued to preach peace to the masses, their meeting had been happenstance. Maribelle had been searching for solutions to an entirely different staffing concern. 

The townspeople had arrived at her door en masse, desperate for a solution and unimpressed with the lack of support from the capital. She held audiences with them in small groups or one at a time, taking note of their concerns and promising to request additional backing in the form of trained individuals. She held license to fortify the manor house itself, but that hardly extended to an armed force. After several late evenings of research in the family library, she decided to take action herself instead of wait for help that might never arrive. There was precedence for the hiring of individuals to hunt particularly troublesome monsters. She would be doing that on a slightly larger, more permanent scale. 

~*~

She started with the inn, a longstanding establishment that she had not once stepped into prior. Spending each day at the estate with growing anxiety over stores and ledgers that she was learning to maintain as she went along compelled her to do something she hadn’t before: ride her horse down into Themis and conduct business herself among the common folk. 

No one was present to take her horse, so she left her in the care of an attendant who had traveled to town with her. She entered through the front, collapsing her parasol. Despite never visiting, the inn was nonetheless much what she expected. Long wooden tables sat mostly empty under dim lighting (most likely to aid in obscuring activities of questionable legality). A stuffy sort of quiet filled the room during the early hours when she arrived unannounced. She hadn’t considered that the owners of the establishment might have other concerns to attend to and that perhaps she should have made arrangements prior. 

A solitary woman sat at one end of the darkened main room engrossed in some manner of paperwork. The owners had been two of the many who had come to plead to her for aid and had made mention of some townspeople who would be proper monster hunting candidates. As neither were in sight, she decided to engage the stranger instead. 

“You there, would you happen to know when the innkeepers will return? I don’t have much time to spend waiting.”

The woman glanced up from what appeared to be a letter before pushing back from the table to stand. The entire set of movements was so smooth and perfectly silent that her curiosity was piqued. Her bearing was that of an individual who had spent time in some great house, her cloak partially concealing expertly tailored traveling clothes underneath.

“They should return shortly, milady,” the woman said with a formal bow. 

Maribelle evaluated her more closely, eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, and made a decision.

“What is your business in Themis, Miss..?”

“Flora,” the woman said, only bowing her head this time, each word spoken in an even tone. “I had planned to find employment in Ylisse, but due to the current situation at the border, the search has not gone as well as I had hoped.”

Traveling with the roads as perilous as they were suggested an intriguing level of competence marred by a foolhardiness that Maribelle found difficult to trust. To leave home without a position secured also hinted at either an abrupt dismissal or some other troubles…

“What of your previous employer? You appear to have some level of refinement about you. Did you formerly occupy some position at some noble house?” 

“A fortress in Nohr, but it is no longer occupied, milady,” she said, expression impassive.

“Surely it needs upkeep even while unoccupied.”

“It simply no longer exists.”

A pause followed, Flora maintaining the same level of cool distance. It was enough to disconcert her somewhat, but as she was more curious than perturbed, she pushed forward.

“I see. Should you not have traveled with its occupants or—“ She stopped herself. Perhaps they suffered a similar fate as the structure itself. 

“I could have, yes, but seeing as my former liege married my sister, I felt it best to seek employment elsewhere.”

 _So,_ that _is the situation… most unconventional._

She stopped herself from commenting, but the grip on her parasol tightened.

“You won’t have to worry about any such impropriety from me, milady. That is, if I may be so bold, there is word that House Themis is looking to fill some staffing positions.”

 _Word from whom? The townspeople? Other noble houses?_

It was possible. Should the world be coming to an end, there would still be those who sought comfort in gossip.

Despite having experienced a lifetime’s worth of misfortune over a few short months, she would never say she was a superstitious individual. Curses existed, but fearing them only amplified their powers and she wasn’t willing to succumb just yet. The woman could be a spy. To what purpose though? Themis was already a humbled, hobbled house riding on the shoulders of an inexperienced young woman who was nearing her wit’s end. Before all the worry could solidify and come to a brittle, terminal snapping point, she made a decision. 

“How quickly could you acquire proof of your service?”

“I travel with documentation, if that is what you mean, but should an interested party request it, additional references could be provided as quickly as the pegasus flies.”

She considered her options a moment, but Flora’s next words made the woman even more compelling as a potential hire during these dire straits. Fiends of all sorts were occasionally appearing on estate grounds despite fortifications and holy warding spells, the latter of which had cost more than she had hoped to pay. Each season was hauntingly shorter than when she was younger and could afford not to care about the passage of time.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, milady, I do have some experience with monsters as well. Those who live in Nohr are all too familiar with the perils of an open road.”

She adjusted a glove, parasol tucked under her arm, as she re-evaluated the woman again.

“I’m impressed,” she remarked allowing some genuine interest show if only for a moment. “Meet me at the estate in an hour and if you see the innkeepers, inform them that the duchess requests an audience.”

And so it was that two individuals in similarly desperate situations met and aligned themselves. 

~*~

The next order of business was her informal, potentially unlawful hunting party. The innkeepers were more than happy to provide her with the names and details on the expertise of several individuals. 

The lady blacksmith and two veterans of previous wars were her earliest recruits. They formed the core of her unofficial twilight hunters and were all from disparate locales, fate for one reason or another drawing them to Themis. 

She first rode with the cobbled together assortment of villagers as a provisional healer, steering clear of much of the fighting herself. Magic soon joined her repertoire and spell casting rotated into her study regimen. Some tasks were preventative. All human corpses—from slain bandits to those of their own—were burned on funeral pyres without exception. She instructed neighboring territories to do the same and was surprised to receive several grateful responses after the initial months of stony silence. 

She spent more time in Themis itself than even her father had and adapted to the customs as needed. Flora took on the role of steward, having proved her competence and knowledge early and often, never once stepping beyond the professional boundaries they wordlessly agreed upon. Life slowly took a turn for the better, her hard work and that of those who supported her paying off. The monster attacks lessened to the point that their patrols focused on the mountain roads that led to the capital. There was still word of bandit attacks at the border, but it was outside the purview of the hunters and not something she felt she could ask of them.

Lissa sent her letters periodically, writing of her travels across Ylisstol and promising to visit if the their militia were ever assigned in Themis. Much of what was left of the official army was off in the east, quelling violence stoked by anti-taguel sentiment. It had been a problem ever since the monsters had come over from Magvel and then Plegia, drawn to the halidom for unknown reasons. Her father was never mentioned, an omission which she appreciated, unable to express her anger and grief fully with anyone in the royal family, childhood friend or no. Nonetheless, the interactions were noticeably strained and the responses slowed until they ceased entirely.

~*~

As the seasons changed, they adjusted their hunts to earlier in the evening. Her villagers were compensated appropriately and invited to the estate on occasion, Flora pleased with the chance to organize the small gatherings, not that she ever said so outright. 

“My previous mistress rarely had guests,” she said, offering no further explanation.

Said liege had become something of a mental guessing game. Maribelle appreciated her steward’s discretion, but the haphazard details she had gleaned from the occasional comment suggested she was something somewhere between reclusive fae child and ancient fantastical being. The steward was more comfortable discussing her twin sister. Siblings were something she had always felt vaguely envious over ever since observing Lissa and Lord Chrom after the princess took her under her wing, the Exalt almost more of a mother figure to them both. Despite the apparent rift that had occurred, Flora still held her sister dear and spoke of her fondly. 

“You should visit someday once the winter snows have passed. I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for Themis… and for me,” she admitted one day. 

“You’re too kind, milady,” she said from where she stood in the study during a morning report. The start of her days trended closer to afternoons as the hunts delayed her evening meals and she studied late into the night. 

“Or perhaps it would ease your mind if they were invited here,” she said.

“I will consider the offer when spring is near, milady,” she said, seemingly eager to move to a different topic of discussion. “In the meantime, there have been reports of attacks on livestock in several nearby villages. A shepherd was found dead alongside the bodies of his flock. There are even claims it occurred during the day.”

Monsters tended to be most active at night, still sluggish during dusk, but this was something more sinister than normal. 

“By fiend—?”

“So it seems. I’ve sent inquiries elsewhere and there are rumors of a beast far more clever and ruthless than most. I advise caution during your next patrols.”

“Understood,” she said, still thinking over the news as she tapped a boot on the ground. “Instruct the hunters to meet me at the forest edge in an hour.”

Flora swayed ever so slightly, but only nodded.

“As you wish, milady.”

~*~

The first day had resulted in nothing out of the ordinary. A bone walker had somehow lodged itself between two stones in a mountain stream. The blacksmith crushed its skull with her hammer. New reports filtered in over the next several weeks, all muddled as the few survivors of initial attacks were sometimes found dead days later. These targeted maulings had a chilling effect on the willingness to relay information and tensions rose amongst townsfolk, several once again seeking audiences with her over the threat.

They continued their regular patrols, unsure of what to watch for in the end. A man? A feral dog? A wyvern with the head of a snake? As the sun descended into the mountains during one such tour, there was a call to turn in, the darkness only making the hunt all the more dangerous. As they retraced their steps back down the mountain road a scream echoed through the woods. Their party stilled a moment, heads facing the direction of the sound. She was the first to turn back.

“Follow my lead!” she called, steering her horse in the direction of the noise. The hounds raced behind her. They had caught the trail of something only to lose it earlier, dashing her hopes of eliminating the threat.

Her mare outpaced her companions, but if she could just arrive in time—

Her horse came to a halt as they rounded a bend in the road. They were too late for the traveler, head missing and arm a bloody stump. The rest of the limb was hanging from the maw of a creature that stood in the middle of the road, staring at her horse in surprise, the whites of its eyes visible from where she sat in the saddle. It held the body in elongated hands like a child would hold a doll, thumbs on the stilled chest and fingers curled inward against the back. Blue gray fur covered most of its form, small patches missing that exposed pale flesh. 

It dropped the corpse, suddenly much more intrigued by the new arrival. She slowly pulled out her tome and began to murmur the proper incantations. This was different. This was wrong. Risen moaned and bone walkers rattled, raising swords like shadows of their former selves as they reenacted battles long past. This creature laughed, a hoarse, wheezing sound, as it approached on too long limbs, front feet somewhere between fingers and paws. The dogs cowered until one lept forward, the creature snapping the hound up and crushing her. Maribelle faltered a moment as the dog was tossed to the side before completing the spell. 

The first burst of flames hit, traces of her magic circles burning a ring of molten gold into the air and fading slowly in the dying light. The beast howled in pain, but remained crouched.

_It’s not enough!_

She nudged her horse into a run, the creature leaping into action at her retreat. She prepared more magic, but the fiend was upon her instantly. Claws grasped at her waist as she was torn from the saddle, a second flame sputtering weakly as the spell was cut short. The rest of the hounds acted then, latching on at various points. It swept them aside, slashing with its free arm and snarling fiercely. She had completely lost her bearing when it swung its long face down and bit her in the arm, a blinding pain exploding at the contact as the world went white. 

Everything that came after was jumbled. The beast let out a hideous screech. The dogs barked and growled. She was tossed to the road, dazed by the impact. Even after it fled, she could hear its laughter as she bled under the orange light of a setting sun.

~*~

She lay ill and feverish for over a week—or that is what she was later told—as the days and nights blended together. Her sleep was rendered as restless and incoherent as her waking hours, all that remained from the time were strange dreams of chasing some unknown intent past skeletal trees and over dried river beds, long legs never tiring and paws growing tougher for the endless hunts ahead. On a rocky outcrop, the lights of Themis far below, she cried out into the vast night, the stars cold and unresponsive as no other voice welcomed her. She tore down Risen and Mogalls, their scents repugnant to her, until something drew her back from the wilderness.

She awoke with a start to the piercing first lights of dawn as the kennel boy prodded her with the end of a rake. Not a single bark or yap emerged from the kennels themselves, the morning silent until she shrieked at a sudden realization. 

“ _You!_ Where are my clothes?! Why am I here?!” she howled as she covered herself, the silence rent asunder by not only her strident exclamations, but an increasingly chaotic chorus of baying and yelping.

The boy stammered ineffectually a moment before dropping the rake and turning away.

“Lady M-Maribelle! I didn’t—I never—I didn’t see nothin’! Didn’t know you was there! The whole place has been lookin’ all _over_ for ya for _days!_ ”

The frenzied mix of hazy conclusions her mind had started to piece together came to an abrupt halt. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t see nothin’! I swear it on—!”

“Not that part!” she barked, “Gone for _days_?”

“Yes, m-milady. Not that it’s none o’ my business, milady.”

A wailing baying from one of the hounds drew her attention away from the quivering kennel boy. 

“ _Quiet_!” Maribelle snapped.

And with a single command the yard descended into icy silence as the steward joined them, a robe draped over an arm as she rushed to Maribelle’s side, fixing the boy with a look that prompted him to escape to the company of his hounds.

She held up the garment as Maribelle hurried to cover herself, muscles on fire in protest of the sudden movement as the questions once again began to overwhelm her.

“Did you enjoy your run in the woods, milady? The hunters say they’re the quietest they’ve been in months. All thanks to you.” 

She stared back, slack jawed and unable to think of a response. Flora smiled sympathetically as she helped her up.

“I’ll draw you a bath and explain what I know,” she whispered against her ear.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her own voice small and unsure.

“Let’s get inside first,” she said, ushering her towards their destination as she allowed Flora to direct her.

Flora first treated the shallow wounds she hadn’t even realized were there before helping her into the water. Her feet ached terribly and her hair was a tangled mess that would require more than a bath to mend. As she sat in the warm water, stunned, she listened to the steward speak.

“Where I come from, there are shifters who hunt monsters. Human by day, they run through the woods of Nohr at night to cleanse them of the faceless fiends the old king left behind when he died.”

She conveniently omitted the part about a princess of Nohr, a daughter of one of the old king’s former mistresses. She slayed her father before leaving the throne to an older brother, never to be seen in the Nohrian court again. News had traveled, but Maribelle had only heard what she assumed to be rumors.

_Makes Ylisse almost seem idyllic in comparison._

The thought almost had her laughing. 

“I’m sorry. I should have realized what you were up against sooner,” Flora said from where she sat, hands neatly folded in her lap. The implications rattled her enough to break her free from her stupor.

“I’m not the same as that—that _thing_!”she insisted, breaking her silence. 

Flora shifted in her seat.

“No, not exactly. I’m no expert, but the wolves… they don’t always settle right. There are those who are born that way, a different tribe much like your taguel. And then there are those who become wolf—like you, milady.”

“But I couldn’t—it’s impossible!” she protested before meeting her eyes with an accusatory glare. “And how is it that you can speak so calmly of this?”

Flora’s expression grew closed as she glanced away, fingers gripping her skirts.

“Lady Corrin was something else—something more than human as well,” she said finally. “I was frightened of her, at first. We were not hired as servants, Felicia and I. The fortress was just as much a prison. Felicia forgot over time, but I—“

She shook her head, her shoulders tense and took a deep breath.

“I am glad you are well, milady,” Flora continued with a steady voice. “This is something that can be overcome. I’ve already acquired some reading on the subject for you to study once you are rested.” 

The air in the room had chilled unnaturally and she chose not to pursue anything beyond what had already been offered.

“You have my gratitude.”

“It’s nothing. I will handle the staff as well.”

She nodded mutely.

“For what it is worth, you looked as any wolf I had seen before though larger in size,” Flora said. “Not half-formed as they beast the hunters described. I had worried you would cross paths, but the creature seems to have gone into hiding.” 

“We must slay it then before it brings harm to anyone else,” she murmured darkly, the scene of the limp figure in its arms playing out in her mind. Never had she arrived at such a critical juncture: too late to save yet early enough to witness the savagery of such an attack in action. 

“First you must eat and rest. There is little point in running yourself to the ground.”

Flora had grown comfortable giving her advice and she respected her steward’s counsel even if she had bristled at the concept initially. The idea of a meal hadn’t occurred to her until that point, but her focus was suddenly consumed with nothing else. The water had grown tepid anyway and the thought of curling up to sleep in her own bed was almost as inviting as the food.

“I will have a tray brought in and will ensure you are not disturbed after that.”

By the time she was dry, her hair tamed by Flora herself, she was equally exhausted and ravenous in a way that might have concerned her had she been in any state to fully discern small details.

Her first meal was one of many changes she noticed upon later recollection. She eschewed the fruit and bread on the tray for any meats. Her sleep following was deep and uninterrupted as promised. When she awoke over a day later, limbs still sore, she stared into the dark fervently praying it was all a fever dream from when she had fallen during the hunt, the scars from the wound still present when she reluctantly reached to run her hand over her arm. 

Not quite prepared to interact with others, she decided to dress herself. She was dismayed to find that much of her clothing needed adjustment. She had grown slightly taller, less lissome and had tsked at her own reflection in the mirror. Flora had found her staring at her hands, back straight, but head down in defeat. 

“It truly happened,” she whispered, Flora at her side. 

A rustling drew her attention to the folding screen.

“These aren’t what I would call fit for a ball, but I was able to find some things that might work. We’ll get it all sorted in no time,” Flora said with false cheer.

“There’s no need to patronize me,” she snapped, anger bubbling up. She regretted it immediately after as Flora tensed, her movements slowing.

“My apologies, milady,” she murmured, bowing.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said, surprising even herself. “I think it would be best if I spend some time alone.”

Flora pursed her lips, but nodded.

“I will have dinner prepared for you. Would you prefer to take it in your rooms?”

To her dismay, she realized she couldn’t deny her hunger.

“That would be preferred.”

Flora bowed and left her to her thoughts. She eventually returned to her bedside, the covers freshly made and perfectly unlike the sudden disarray that defined the rest of her life. When she sat on the edge of the bed, she noticed a neatly piled stack of books. She recognized some titles. A previous relative had been a collector of occult items during a brief period of relaxed relations with Plegia—their interest (and their Plegian spouse) often spoken of with disapproval by later generations. Nothing had ever been done to dispose of the tomes, however, and until she had begun to deal in hunting fiends, she had never bothered with any of them herself. 

She lifted the first volume from the stack: _A Compleate History of Werewolves: Being An Account of Beasts Both Wonderful and Fearsome_. The title didn’t inspire much confidence, but it was a start. When Flora arrived with her meal, she accepted the decoratively plated meat without comment and continued reading late into the night. 

_This is something that can be overcome._

Adjusting was all she allowed herself to hope for in that moment. Adjusting and soldiering on for there was still so much work to do.


	4. Parallel Existences

_She used to weave crowns, lacing together delicate flowers to place atop the head of a princess. They would play together in the castle gardens, away from the whispers and jeering laughter. For brief moments it was as if the sun shone for her alone._

_How many months had passed since the moon had grown transcendent? Cool and distant as it hung in the night depths. Her heart was swept up in ever changing tides, indifferent to where she wished them to carry her, pulling her under time and again._

~*~

The fiend lay unmoving at their feet, its massive form contorted and face a grotesque mockery of what it should have been. She dismounted to get a closer look, the stench of burnt fur and flesh causing her eyes to water. Scowling, she raised an arm to cover her sensitive nose. It was no wolf, but something in between, with grasping paws and sheep’s blood still glossy on its muzzle. They had found it attacking livestock again, this time the shepherd living a happier fate than the ones before her. Even some of the sheep had survived and she was vaguely aware of their confused bleating as they huddled together in scattered groups. Maribelle had searched for the beast several times alone to no avail, but finally the deed was done. There was no pleasure in it, only emptiness. 

“Prepare a pyre,” she instructed, the others murmuring at the suggestion. She turned to look at them. “This one was human once. I’d rather not see their return, wouldn’t you agree?”

She was rewarded with a disjointed chorus of assent as they got to work. Did they dare think she was wrong? That there was never anything human about the broken creature? That humans weren’t perfectly capable of clever and violent miseries wrought against their own and others? Or perhaps they wished to string the corpse up in town as a ghastly display for everyone to point and gawk at. Stories to scare children into going to sleep on time would have to suffice. 

The healing staff slid free of its bindings and she approached the shepherd who stared out into the field listlessly. 

“Are you in need of any healing?” she asked quietly, the shepherd startling as if waking from a dream. 

“I’m alright, your ladyship,” she responded just above a whisper, a hand awkwardly tugging at her sleeve before she brought it up to rub at an eye with the cuff. “It’s just um the sheep, y’see…”

Maribelle nodded grimly, following the young woman’s gaze out onto the hills. Her jaw clenched at some of the fallen forms.

“Come, let’s salvage what we can though I will be quite put out if I find you’ve put your flock before yourself,” she said, raising an eyebrow as the woman paled.

“Well, u-um mayhaps my ankle fe-feels a bit achy,” she admitted.

“That’s better,” she’s said, grateful for a practical distraction. “And then we shall tend to your flock.”

The others built the pyre as she attempted to work with the animals finding them to be more difficult in some ways than most human patients. For one, they were terrified of her to the point that she exchanged her mend staff for a physic, the shepherd overly apologetic as she repeatedly attempted to rationalize their evasive behavior. Maribelle’s horse had never rejected her and she quietly promised to spoil her when she walked over to where she was hitched, taking a moment to rub the mare’s neck in the spot that she liked as if to prove—to herself, the flock or the shepherd, she wasn’t quite certain—how gentle she could be with hoofed beasts. 

“They’re just a slight bit rattled, your ladyship!” the woman called again followed by a nervous laugh.

The hunters spent the better part of an hour building the site over stone with a ring of rock to contain it. Mild winds were less of a concern this far from the tree line. The wood was stacked, the blacksmith working up a sweat under the midday sun as others moved the body. Standing close, she snapped her hand away from the pages of a nearly spent tome, starting the fire with a single spell and tossing the book onto the pyre, a small coppery plume enveloping it with a dramatic flourish.

The fire blazed in the heat of the unseasonably warm spring day, the smoke branching out into the afternoon sky long after the rest of the hunters were dismissed, several escorting the shepherd and her flock. She stayed to finish the job and they left her to what might have seemed like retribution in their eyes. If it were only that simple, slaying a wild fiend that had bitten. In the end, strange bones that told her nothing were all that remained. Those would soon be crushed into dust as well, buried in a ditch somewhere before mischief could be concocted from the ashes. 

When she returned to the estate, she went back to her books, the only source of understanding beyond her own limited experiences. She had instructed her hunters to patrol without her during the upcoming days. Days became weeks as she felt herself pulling away, communicating with them through the steward or brief audiences. When she did attend some of the more dangerous patrols, her newly enhanced hearing alerted her to their discomforted whispers over how she had grown distant. 

She had learned about her condition—sometimes the hard way—and could transform at will. The only time the wolf forced her way into Maribelle’s routine was during the height of a full moon—one of the few pieces of lore that was consistent among accounts. There was something comforting in retreating into the other even if she was still alone during her nighttime excursions.

She was incredibly fortunate compared to many whom had come before. Some histories documented torture and all manner of other unpleasantness before eventual execution. Perhaps those were other times and yet it was frightening how little separated humans from monstrous threats of late. 

Her staff was loyal despite her unique situation. Many of those who remained had served House Themis for generations. The townspeople, she later found out, praised her name for slaying the monster as intelligent and ruthless as any human. They said she had struck the monster down with righteous flames and radiant bolts of lightning. 

As the wolf, she tread carefully in the closest woods as those who feared beasts had begun to cull some of the non-supernatural predators of the forest, an activity she strongly discouraged. She had no quarrel with the true wolves and they avoided each other. To her dismay, her difficulties making connections translated to her other form as well, uncertain as she was how to read some of the wild wolf language. One of her more embarrassing missteps was to answer a chorus one winter night only for the others to grow silent in response and move away, finding some other mountain crag to call from. 

By the summer, more hunters were trained. She increasingly spent even less time in the woods leading them and more nights alone, scaling mountains on four legs. She assisted travelers and townspeople, showing herself every now and again and listening for new stories of a wolf beast. They called her golden and the few times she accompanied the hunters, she feigned disinterest as they shared their own guesses at the wolf’s origins. Some said the wolf was a gift from Naga herself, others that it was an animal who hated Risen more than humans. Their archer claimed she was part of the wolf tribe somehow displaced far from the Hatari. 

The bandit problem was still a growing concern and she harried their nightwatches, destroying stores and agitating their wyvern mounts, singing to them songs of their masters’ demise. The true wolves didn’t call during hunts, but she was playing a much longer game than any four legged beast. Her routines were carefully altered. She spent time further east in Ylisse when tensions grew too high at the border. After all, she was only one being even if she was uniquely situated to move about under the cover of night. The bandits relocated bases several times and were clearly being supplied from some external source, whereas her own resources were more finite.

“It’s been some time since you invited your hunters to dine or accompanied them to the tavern,” Flora remarked, interrupting her thoughts as she took dinner in her rooms one evening.

“There’s little point in spending the time,” she said with a sigh. 

“If you say so, milady.”

The steward was growing increasingly skilled at unfairly targeting her with daggerlike precision, no change in tone required. She stubbornly speared another piece of venison with her fork and ate it before giving in to the unspoken suggestion with a huff.

“Very well. I’ll return in the morning. I do plan on leading a small patrol tomorrow evening, if that consoles you. Perhaps I will even attend the gathering after! There! Are you satisfied?”

A small smile had appeared on Flora’s face before her expression reverted to its cool neutral.

“I’m certain the town’s hunters will be gladdened by your presence tomorrow. Take care on the mountain at night.”

“No fiend is a match for the wolf,” she said with an odd mixture of pride and resignation. 

“And we are all safer for your efforts,” Flora said with a slight dip of her head, an amused glimmer in her eyes.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she remarked dryly, pointing at her with her fork and pretending to be preoccupied with some reading materials. A younger Maribelle might have scolded herself over her current hermitlike tendencies of hoarding manuscripts and reading over them as she ate alone in her rooms, occasionally with the steward as company. Her past self was also entirely naive to the workings of the world that sometimes felt as though it was coming apart at the seams. If she spent too much time mulling over such thoughts, she was likely to grow even more ill-tempered.

“It is as you say,” Flora responded with that same infuriatingly placid tone. 

“Hmph.”

The rest of the meal passed quietly as she prepared herself for the long night ahead.

~*~

The latest development left her uneasy. If she could convince the traveling performers to stay for even a few days so she could observe, but the two women who appeared to be in charge were resistant to the idea. The swordswoman she had encountered fighting a nest of bone walkers during the evening prior was distrustful and the other had insinuated that they would be late for some sort of event if they delayed. Maribelle considered hiring them herself, but wasn’t keen on the use of funds in such a way. If it were closer to the harvest festival perhaps there would be stronger pretext, but in the end she decided it would be best to isolate the potential issue: the young lady with suspicious bite marks.

She rushed to greet them upon their return from the town before they could retreat to their rooms for the night. The one named Tethys (who seemed to have some sense of manners) bowed low to her, nudging her companion who reluctantly followed suit, her movement stilted in comparison.

“Rooms have been prepared for you in the guest quarters.”

“Thank you, but one room is adequate,” Tethys said, the swordswoman still looking ready for a fight, eying her warily. She pointedly ignored the hostility for the time being.

“Of course. The spare can be opened to one of your traveling companions then. Some of them are currently sharing as your arrival was unanticipated.” And we are short staffed. “Miss Olivia is next to you as well should you wish to check in on her.”

“We cannot thank you enough,” Tethys said with another graceful bow, this one fit for royalty. 

“About that,” she responded, Marisa tensing, “I implore you to stay or—“she met Tethys’ gaze, “to consider leaving your companion here. Healers can be difficult to come by over the border. All her needs would be taken care of while you are away.”

Tethys slowly clutched her companion’s arm as if to steady herself.

“I couldn’t leave her behind,” Tethys said, emotion clouding her voice.

“Nonsense! Quite the opposite of abandonment really, as it would be done with her best interests at heart. I am giving you my opinion as a healer. As your occupation is fairly dependent on mobility, it would be _unwise_ to travel in such a state. I won’t force the matter, but she could remain here until you return.”

There was a tense moment in the foyer when Marisa spoke for the first time.

“We will discuss it in the morning,” she said, taking Tethys’ hand. 

“Very well. Enjoy your rest and speak to the steward if you need anything. An attendant will lead you to your rooms,” she finished, deciding to wash her hands of further decision making as much as it grated on her to do so.

The injured woman hadn’t smelled sick like the other beast, but she had so little to go on and it was becoming increasingly clear that none of the accounts in her library were written by any wolfkind. She had spent the last hour searching and many works recommended destroying the potential threat before it became truly dangerous. That was simply out of the question, the very idea leaving her ill. There was no personal attachment to the strangers she had allowed on her grounds, but it all seemed undeniably unfair. 

In a defiant protest against the written advice, she shut herself away in the study and researched late into the night, Flora waking her some time in the morning. To her dismay, she was still in her clothes from the day before despite Flora’s attempts to get her to sleep at a decent hour.

“They’ve left, milady. Miss Olivia has chosen to stay.”

Blinking sleep from her eyes, she rubbed at a cheek and felt the imprint left by the pages of a tome she had fallen asleep on sometime during the early hours before dawn.

“Mm? Would you be able to monitor her yourself?” she murmured. “I ah think some distance from this would be preferred. In case things… take a turn for the worse.”

Flora frowned, but nodded curtly. 

“Understood. I will keep you abreast of any developments.”

She breathed in deeply and squinted at the light.

“What time is it?”

“Almost midday, milady.”

Groaning was entirely unladylike, but she buried her face in her hands and did it anyway. Once she got her wordless complaint out of the way, her head snapped up and she straightened her posture. 

“Alright then. Time to become presentable!”

For whom or what, she didn’t elaborate. Most likely she would move to the library and spend much of the rest of the day reading. This was a new angle from which to consider the wolf affliction and time was of the essence.

~*~

When the full moon came and went, she left on her expeditions into the heart of the woods and crowns of the nearest mountains only to return to contend with the fact that nothing had changed. No signs of another wolf emerged. Just the dancer who had recovered enough to move about on her own. She sensed herself sliding into another malaise as the initial relief transformed into disappointment and then a profound guilt over wishing her condition, however briefly, on another. She continued her treks, sometimes wandering far and other times ensuring the town and estate grounds were safe.

One night she circled back home early only to find the woman practicing in the moonlight just outside the rings of warmth and firelight cast by the mage lanterns. Olivia had paused in her training, startled by her approach. (She could have stayed hidden. She could have blended back into the trees, the woman never suspecting her presence. She should have, she should have—)

She sat on her haunches a distance away, ears upright to better hear the forest at her back. 

“The wolf,” Olivia whispered. “Marisa saw you.”

After a tense moment, the dancer placed a hand on her chest as she bent at the waist, a nervous smile ghosting across her face as she bowed. 

And then something happened that cast Olivia in a new light. She danced for her under the silver embrace of the moon, a different person entirely from the anxious birdlike guest who Flora said could barely hold a conversation over tea. 

With a renewed sense of purpose, she returned to her hunt, tearing down many a beast and forcing others to flee further into caves and forest depths. When she eased back into her human form the next morning, the dancer’s magic had dissipated and she decided she would avoid the estate in the evenings on clear nights.

The following night the wolf ignored her more human reservations and once again returned early to watch the dancer, this time she settled on her belly in the grass, still far enough away so as not to cause alarm. Olivia waved to her and her ears pricked in response. She was no tamed tail-wagger who barked and cried for approval. This human was simply of interest with her dance that left traces of glistening magic in the air. She could sense the energies from where she watched, her nose twitching at the thought.

Each time she would bound off into the woods completely refreshed as she once again made her way over the border and up into the hills surrounding the nearest mountain pass. The bandits were gathering in increasing numbers of late. Sometimes a presence alighted that reeked of magic wrought by ruinous tomes. 

She had avoided revealing her presence the past few nights, instead focusing on information gathering. To her great frustration, what mattered to the wolf did not always hold the same importance when she reverted back with the reverse holding true as well. The wolf didn’t have an ear for names and places, the details often getting muddled in the transition. Her human self was significantly more schedule and task oriented, both forms having their own disparate understandings of time and priorities.

After nearly a week of the wolf waiting and watching, the dancer stopped her routine part way one evening. Olivia approached through the grass, stopping every so often to gauge her reaction. The wolf remained still, laying her head down and she listened to the grass move with every step until the soft swishing ceased. 

She slowly raised herself to sit, listening to the woman’s heart accelerate as she glanced back towards the building. It was sensible for her to worry about a wolf her size though she had no intention to intimidate. Instead, she slowly closed the distance between them and craned her neck down within easy reach of the woman who brought up a shaking arm to meet her.

As the hand pressed into the thick fur lining her neck, she found herself leaning into the touch. Olivia didn’t pat her like a human might reward the hounds. She ran her fingers through her ruff and stepped back, careful not to overstay her welcome. 

“I’d like to create a dance for you, Miss Wolf,” she said, smiling. “Now that we are perhaps friends.” She glanced away with a frown. “I wish I had a name for you, but you don’t seem the kind of being who would allow anyone to name them.”

Maribelle sat again and turned her face towards the moon that lit the grounds, eyes closed as if basking in its glow. Olivia took a seat next to her and wrapped an arm around her knees. They watched the stars from the lawns on the backside of the estate well out of range of the magefire lights. The dancer sighed softly after a time and she turned an ear to listen. 

“Do you ever get lonely by yourself at night?” she asked and then laughed quietly behind a raised hand. “I guess you can’t answer that. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately. Maybe you have a family somewhere. I do, but they’re so far away.” 

The wolf and the human warred within herself—the human winning the encounter —and she stood abruptly to leave, Olivia shifting away in surprise. Despite her internal agitation, she turned and rubbed a too large cheek against Olivia’s own before prancing away under the moonlight, a lightness to her step as she leapt towards the treeline in an indirect route of playful strutting and half-turns as if she were dancing as well. When she paused to glance back, Olivia greeted her with a wave and a brilliant smile that had her indecisively shuffling in place a moment before she tore her gaze away. 

Head down and ready to sniff out unsuspecting night beasts, she entered the gloom alone. The shadow of the woods drew her in completely, more of her than she would willingly admit wishing for nothing else than to stay in the company of another for a night when the moon shone so brightly.

~*~

The fact that they had dared cross the border was infuriating enough. They were targeting the wolf and growing more clever over how they approached it, employing hunter’s tactics meant for wild game. She would need to take care to find a new route to the border pass.

Her morning ablutions had washed off the blood from a stray arrow wound, her hair still wet in the braid that Flora had coiled and pinned, a scalloped hair comb completing the intricate ensemble. She hadn’t slept a wink and was running on the energy produced by sheer indignation, the dancer woman observing as she glared at several leghold traps laid out on the lawn, the stench of their mage-forged metal entirely offensive to her.

“Education separates us from the beasts of the field,” she said with a sniff, tossing a stripped branch onto the plate of an open trap. Olivia jumped in place as the jaws snapped shut. “I am learning about traps.” 

“Is that for monsters then?”

“No,” she said, scowling at the splintered wood. “Bandits are lining the woods with them. They hope to catch the wolf. Or injure her. She’s far too clever to fall for these amateur efforts. She’s a _civilized_ wolf.”

Olivia laughed into a hand.

“What’s so funny?”

Her eyes widened, but instead of stammering as she might have before, Olivia surprised her.

“Oh, she just sounds like a very good wolf. I would like to meet her.”

Maribelle’s laugh in return came out more snide than intended, but she softened her response into a knowing smile before that too melted into something more somber.

“Perhaps some day. She’s most active during the full moon. I’m told they’re drawn to it,” she said, head angling towards the luminous sliver of night sky slowly fading into the blue. She shook her head and sighed. “Don’t let me detain you from any business you might have.” 

Olivia crossed her arms as her gaze fell before she shook off whatever doubts she was experiencing and spoke up again.

“Did you need any help? I grew up in a hunting village. I never received full training when I was there, but I remember things. I have some small skill with a sword as well.”

Once again, the woman’s response was not what she had expected.

“I suppose—I suppose I could use some assistance,” she admitted, tossing the remaining stick in her hand to the side. “I would like to remove some of these nuisances as soon as possible—it’s only a matter of time before _someone_ is injured. However, there is no guarantee we wouldn’t encounter any fiends in the deepest woods.”

_Or more human foes._

She watched for her reaction and was pleased to see less of the timid quaking she had experienced prior during their limited interactions.

“I can fight, milady,” she said, “I’d like to be of some use.”

Surely her hunters would be enough, but the way she had met her gaze and offered her sword so resolutely! Perhaps the wolf who Olivia had fibbed about was correct in her evaluation of the woman. 

“It’s settled then! You will be given proper notice. Until then, Miss Olivia,” she said, taking her leave as the woman bowed. 

It was a comfort to have another sword at their side, the majority of their forces armed with hammers, clubs and hunter’s bows meant for deer and boar. A long sleep was in order, however, and she would deal with the other arrangements later.

~*~

The expedition had gone better than expected, Olivia adapting to the company of her expert hunters surprisingly well. She had understated her ability with a sword even if she was not quite as fierce as that Marisa woman. 

To her great mortification, her hunters had welcomed her back so warmly, their words forcing their way past her insecurities to settle near her like a stray cat she couldn’t bring herself to shoo away. She had been sure to mention how intolerable they all were only to receive an embarrassing amount of raucous cheering in response. The friendly goading had teased a genuine smile from even the dancer who had been so dreadfully nervous at the start. The only reason she hadn’t accompanied them to the village in the end was because she could sense her guest’s flagging strength after hours in the woods. 

It had been several days since she had left the grounds for the night as the wolf and it hadn’t escaped her attention how Olivia practiced at the back of the main building that faced the woods. She had briefly considered approaching her on more than one occasion before rejecting the idea almost as quickly as it surfaced. The return home earlier had afforded her an opportunity to extend an invitation, but a quick scouting mission at the border was in order now that she had surveyed the area during the daytime.

Preparing for the transformation had taken on a ritualistic quality. Flora brushed her hair in smooth strokes that never snagged. It could have been anyone else, but Maribelle trusted her the most and the steward had a steady nature that was calming in its own way. Flora could sense when to distract her with idle talk and when she wished for quiet. Some nights during the earliest months when anger and bitterness coursed through her veins, she would be spoiling for a fight and the steward would find roundabout ways to talk her down. Maybe it was just a phase. Maybe she knew better now. 

_Don’t throw yourself away so carelessly._

At some point as part of the process she had started to evaluate herself in the mirror, ticking off mental checkboxes of things she hoped to accomplish and warnings to be heeded. How close she could skirt the towns before dogs would bark. Which monsters to leave to the evening hunters. How far she could travel in one direction and still make it back in time to beat the sunrise and be warm in her bed, too bone weary to be unable to sleep for a solid stretch. 

With the dancer around, she had grown more circumspect in where and when she shifted, sometimes entering the woods alone barefoot, retrieving gowns and shifts in the early hours or arranging for Flora to receive her at a designated window. The steward often greeted her with a disapproving frown as she healed minor injuries. 

That night had been without discussion until she decided to relay one last detail.

“Escort Olivia to tea tomorrow, would you?” she said, masking her own expression as she adjusted her hair in the mirror. The pins wouldn’t stay in place, but she slid another in any way for good measure.

The steward’s brows rose ever so slightly.

“I can see your reflection very clearly, you know. Don’t give me that look,” she groused. “Any threat that she might be like—well, like _me_ has long since passed and she is our guest. I would like to start treating her as such.” 

“Very well. And when should we expect your return?”

“In the morning though don’t wait for me as I believe it will be after sunrise.” 

With a designated meeting in place, the wolf wouldn’t wander too far from the plan and she would be home in time for a full day’s rest.

~*~

The fog confused everything. Turned her around and confounded her senses, choking back her breath and her voice as she ran. There was magic at work as well underneath it all, her whiskers tingling at the sensation.

When she emerged in the border pass, men on wyverns were perched like vultures waiting to scavenge. They flanked her, ready to tear her down. A hand axe lodged in her side, and she stumbled, falling into a gulch wreathed in more mist. A dark shadow followed her descent and she tore at its wings, its rider thrown from his seat, dangling by the harness as all three plummeted down, down into the darkness. Sinking her teeth into the mount’s neck resulted in a gurgling shriek. Claws gripped her sides. A flailing kick caught her face, a line of red-hot agony erupting along her jaw. A tree clinging to a rocky outcrop caught her first, the thin branches snapping under her weight. The impact shook her free from her foe, the wyverns cries echoing oddly in the thick air. Both wyvern and rider fell even further, out of sight. She lay dazed a moment before easing back up onto her feet. There had to be a way down and then out, traveling underneath the fog that hid the moon and her adversaries from her.

The wolf could heal, but not that rapidly. The unnatural fog lifted as she limped back into the woods, doing her best to avoid further confrontations. There were torches and voices at her back, calls for the wyverns to scout. Night was on her side in this case, the wyverns more accustomed to daytime attacks. Her trajectory led her dangerously close to villages, racing through the meadows and pastures until she couldn’t run anymore. Night beasts watched her, but none approached. Unable to go further, she found a hollow within the mountainside, away from the road and out of sight from above and slept the day away in hiding.

The next morning, she stumbled onto the grounds using a side path through the forest. If she could just get to the front yard or any point where she could be seen…

Her back leg had grown numb though the sensation of wet on her fur remained, a wound reopening during the last stretch of her travels. A paw caught on a rock as she lurched forward again, pausing a moment to regain her balance before she continued to trudge towards her destination.

She was losing her grip on the wolf, but it was safer to hold on if she could. In the distance all manner of barks and bellowing howls erupted into the early morning. 

_The dogs. Naga bless those foolish hounds._

Mage lights illuminated the main path and the entryways. She made several paces of agonizing progress more before voices entered the fray. She thought she had perhaps seen the dancer—Olivia, she chided herself as she swayed, collapsing to the earth.

_This will do._

She lacked the energy to complain during the reversion made more difficult by the length of time she had held onto that other form, but pathetic noises were dragged past her lips nonetheless. Everything ached even after healing. She would just rest awhile, she thought, as the world distorted, the warmth of darkness closing in on her. 

~*~

She had lain awake for an indeterminate amount of time, any signs of the outer world hidden away. Her limbs heavy as stone, she remained still when the doorway opened and the steward walked in, padding quietly across the carpet.

“How long have I been asleep?” she meant to say, but the words came out sluggish and jumbled. 

The steward didn’t miss a beat as she cracked open the drapes to reveal the warm tones of an afternoon sun.

“A day and a half, milady. Here, something to drink,” she said, issuing the statement in a way that bordered on becoming a command.

Her hand shook as she took the cup, spilling cool water on her fingers and the blankets. Flora helped steady her without comment, sitting her up. The second attempt went more smoothly.

“Our guest witnessed your return home,” Flora said, her brows knit as she waited for a response.

“Ah… well, I suppose I should have a word with her. Do you believe she wishes to flee now that she knows the truth?”

“That could present a problem.” 

She wasn’t certain she cared anymore. 

_You must rise to the occasion._

She had risen again and again to such terrible heights that everyone had fallen out of reach. 

“I think I will write a letter to Ylisstol and then I’d like to spend the afternoon in the gardens,” she said, offering no further response to the steward’s concerns. 

And so she did. For several days, not touching books nor paperwork nor taking any meetings. She sat in the gardens under the last rays of summer sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there! Thanks for reading! As I think I mentioned, it's mostly complete. So, a chapter every other day and then hopefully it ends alongside the "moon" prompt on the 17th.


	5. The Current and the Tides

It wasn’t until several days after the incident on the lawn that Olivia saw her again, bundled in layers. A lacy shawl, more decoration than warmth, was draped over the top of the ensemble. As Olivia exited the door into the gardens, she narrowed her eyes at the unexpectedly bright overcast sky. The gray extended even to the greenery, leaching some of the color out and leaving everything muted. 

The darkened manor house had begun to stifle much like the high-necked clothing she had been provided during the first week of her stay. The staff whispered in hushed murmurs during the day that transitioned into deathly quiet at night. She remained in her rooms in the otherwise empty guest wing during the evenings, reading or practicing steps that didn’t require as much space, the rugs uneven in ways she never noticed when she walked across them every day. 

The suggestion that she should remain inside after sunset was made during breakfast the morning after the transformation, word having spread that she was privy to the secret. Even Flora was absent from her daily routines, other staff taking her place. 

The steward had held a brief audience with Olivia in the study shortly after the duchess’s return. Unease pricked at the hairs on her neck as Flora closed the door and drew the curtains shut against the light of a rising sun. She had never been invited to the study before where even more shelves full of books lined the walls and a stately desk sat in front of a high-backed chair. A tapestry depicting flowers on a field of blue adorned the wall opposite a large portrait of a stern-faced man, presumably family. A tray of food had been placed on a table in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to touch it, but neither did the steward, the meal clearly just a pretense. 

“You will refrain from sharing what you saw with anyone, understood?” the steward had said.

Olivia had never caught sight of the daggers hidden at her waist previously. It was a threat that later left her grateful to have glimpsed only traces of her since then. This was a dangerous place, she reminded herself, searching for those same early feelings of unease to protect her. Better to play confused and guileless than become even more of a target. She thought of sending a letter to Tethys and Marisa, but couldn’t figure out how to do so unnoticed. In the end, she realized she didn’t even know where to direct it. More than once she considered carrying the bag of coins Marisa had left her, savings from several seasons supposedly for a gift they could ill afford. Just a precaution. They couldn’t be that much longer. Surely they were on their way.

In the gardens, her own wary self-preparations were thrown off-kilter at the sight of the duchess herself, perched on the edge of a stone garden bench, watching a nearby fountain with an empty stare, the flowing water clear and frigid as it fed into a stream. A breeze tugged at her hair. Olivia shivered where she stood. With a doll-like fragility, the duchess huddled in her layers, skin a pallid, sickly shade that bordered on gray. Her face was leaner, sharper and she wondered if that, too, was a trick of the light. Olivia turned back to the main house, but a voice stopped her in her tracks before she could retreat.

“I’m told you saw my return the other morning. That you know what I am, Miss Olivia,” the duchess said, tone flat and cold like the marble floors in the entryway.

A shaky breath. Her heart fluttering in her chest. That fear that protected her so many times. 

“Um y-yes, milady,” she answered, deciding there was no sense in lying. “You are the wolf. The forest guardian who k-keeps the r-roads safe for travelers.”

The duchess’ expression grew flinty, mouth drawing down into a scowl.

“You sniveled significantly less when you first met the wolf,” she snapped with a huff. “I find it difficult to believe I’m more fearsome now as—as _delicate_ as I am.”  
She pulled the shawl closer, shoulders hunched as she hugged herself. The bark of her voice was less rearing beast and more retired guard dog, rest disturbed by an irksome guest. “Well, never mind then. The good news is that you are free of the curse yourself. The full moon has passed and it is one less worry of mine.”

Her eyes widened at the implication, but all she could respond with was a mumbled echo of what the duchess had already stated.

“Free of the curse?”

A flash of irritation crossed the duchess’ features.

“You said you were bitten by a vicious dog. I needed to know for certain. You could have put yourself, your companions and any number of others in danger.”

“You thought I was a wolf?” Olivia squeaked out, still baffled at the prospect. 

“Yes,” the duchess replied crisply, back straighter and perhaps it was only annoyance, but some color had returned to her cheeks, a thin scar bright pink along her jawline. “Or I thought it was possible and I would have aided you in your transition if the affliction settled rightly as mine had. My apologies for not informing you sooner. It is a trying matter for me to discuss and there was no sense distressing you over a potential worst case scenario when in the end it was nothing.”

“What would have happened if it um hadn’t settled?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.

The duchess paled once again at the question.

“I cannot allow any more ravening beasts to run free through the woods,” she rasped, gaze expressionless. Olivia shuffled nervously at the implication. “I located my progenitor,” she continued, spitting out the word with a cold fury, “many moons after my first transformation and they are no longer with us. The depredation was devastating for many and fatal for some. They had killed several townspeople and slaughtered livestock recreationally. There was no reasoning with them. They were so far gone that they didn’t even revert back. I have no way of knowing—”

She choked back her last words and shook her head, refocusing her gaze on Olivia as she calmed.

“The month has passed. You needn’t worry over it at all anymore,” she said, tone lighter. “Has your injury been giving you any trouble? Your dancing doesn’t seem to have suffered in the least from what I have observed.”

Olivia wanted to ask if the wolf and her were the same. If they shared the same memories and emotions like they shared scars. Instead, she thanked her.

“Oh, yes, good as new thanks to Miss Flora a-and to you as well, milady.”

She bowed her head slightly only for the duchess to wave it off.

“It was nothing I wouldn’t have done for anyone, you understand. It’s part of my responsibilities,” she explained, perfectly poised, only her eyes remaining heavy with exhaustion. 

Olivia wondered about that. Not every noble would care about the well-being of strangers passing through. The troupe had experienced its fair share of less than favorable run-ins with the elite of various regions. The duchess continued with her thoughts before Olivia could comment.

“I maintain that you are better off having refrained from traveling so soon after serious injury. There is no guarantee you would have found skilled healers across the border. They tend to practice a different school of magic altogether.” 

She sniffed in what Olivia interpreted as disapproval. 

“I’m still thankful and I know Tethys is as well,” Olivia said, leaning forward slightly.

_Marisa, too, though she might never say so._

The duchess responded with a tired hum, apparently mollified or perhaps too weary to waste the energy on irritation.

“You’re welcome then. I am grateful for your assistance in the woods. You hold no ties to Themis and yet you fought alongside its hunters. It is not something I will soon forget.” 

“I think Marisa would be disappointed if I lost all progress from her training by the time they return,” she mused, a wistful longing for the troupe’s companionship settling over her.

“Have you received word from them?” the duchess asked, genuine concern coloring her voice.

“Yes, they arrived in Jehanna,” Olivia confirmed. A tightness in her chest that she hadn’t realized was there unraveled at the change of topic. The duchess moved from her seat, lightly brushing off the skirt of her dress before she stood in front of Olivia. 

“You are welcome to remain here until their return. I would understand, however, if you would prefer to move to the inn after the other night’s revelation. Your stay would be provided for no matter your decision.” The duchess reached out to hold her hands and Olivia was startled at the warmth. “I can only offer assurance the wolf poses no threat to you, but the choice is yours.” 

An untimely kindling of something other than fear ensconced itself in her chest. She breathed deeply and regained her bearing after the sudden contact.

“I did promise her a dance,” she said tentatively, but sighed in relief as the duchess’ face brightened, her hands returning to her side.

“I suppose you did. For my part, I would like to invite my guest to tea,” she said, her cheeks coloring again, “It will be ah… much improved from the first time. My apologies for canceling on such short notice.” 

She said it as if she were merely delayed by an ultimately inconsequential inconvenience rather than an encounter that ended with her broken and bloodied on the lawns, the cause of which was still a mystery to Olivia.

The breeze returned, stirring the remaining leaves of the rose bushes, the flowers beginning to fade as the seasons changed. 

“It would be my pleasure to attend,” she said and maybe this time she meant it.

~*~

For the second time that week, Olivia had been invited to yet another room she had never encountered prior and spent the first few minutes admiring the layout. Etched flowers bloomed in between the window grates, the theme extending to the vines and leaves carved into much of the furniture and the woven rugs that carpeted the floors. Rain streamed down the glass, the grounds obscured by uneven rivulets. 

The duchess poured the tea, a look passing between her and an attendant who excused himself. Olivia didn’t know what to say during the day time to the duchess, color restored to her face and a polish to her movement—as if she were performing for an audience—that had been absent several days prior in the gardens. 

Presumably her schedule or her health prevented an earlier reunion, but Olivia wasn’t certain if it would be rude to inquire. 

“Anything on your mind, darling?” the duchess asked, Olivia nearly dropping her cup at the casual familiarity. She managed to balance it before any tea escaped, the duchess’ lips pinching into a frown.

“Oh, no, I’m just glad you’re looking well,” she managed to say, hoping it was enough of a swift recovery, the cup still nervously clutched in her hand, its base rattling against the saucer until she lifted it away.

“Why, yes, thank you. The wolf has exceptional self-regenerative properties. I would be deceased several times over if that weren’t the case. Strangely enough, the beast that bit me unintentionally saved my life,” she said with a dour expression. “But that’s enough of that! Customarily, I suppose I would share something scandalous or some intriguing bit of gossip, but after all your time in Themis, you are already acquainted with the most shocking detail of all.” She closed an eye as she lifted her cup for a drink, the other half-lidded, gauging her reaction.

_The wolf?_

Olivia had been curious about her evening visitor and held onto a vague hope of learning more from the source herself. She caught herself leaning forward and pulled back, attempting to mimic the duchess’ perfect posture. Before the pause went on too long, the duchess provided her own answer.

“I have an atrocious sleep schedule.” 

“O-oh,” Olivia stammered, eyes wide as she took a long sip of her tea.

“It was a joke,” the duchess remarked flatly before any hint of annoyance rolled off smoother than the water that continued to tap against the windows. “Though I’ve always been something of a night owl.” 

“Me as well,” Olivia confessed, eager to share even a modest point of connection. “Sometimes our performances go so late.” 

“You spend much of your time on the road then?” she asked. 

“Oh yes, we travel all over. We always say Tethys has connections with at least one person in every major town and city we visit—and if she doesn’t, she will soon enough!”

“And now you both have connections in Themis,” she said with a friendly warmth that Olivia wouldn’t have anticipated, the sweetness giving her pause. In comparison, there was no hesitation on the part of the duchess. She was seemingly content to direct the conversation even in the face of Olivia’s more tentative responses. “But journeying all over the continents—how fascinating! Though travel is now more perilous than ever! The only place I have visited with any sort of regularity is Ylisstol. I have spent many a summer and some winters there as well.”

“So, you go there often?” she inquired.

The question wasn’t the right one and her companion’s face fell.

“I—no, not anymore,” she murmured before growing animated again. “But it doesn’t matter. We have our own traditions in Themis. In fact, next month, if you are so inclined, there will be a celebration in the town. Dancing and all manner of festivities. If you are still here, I encourage you to attend.”

It was the first time Olivia felt any apprehension over the thought of leaving. She stopped listening to descriptions of vendors and food to consider the change. That was right. This would all come to an end. Was she content with that? Why wouldn’t she be?

Maribelle refilled her cup, bringing her back into the present.

“And as I said, there’s dancing, so you simply _must_ experience it for yourself!”

“Oh, um, yes, of course. It sounds lovely.”

Maribelle nodded, pleased with Olivia’s response.

“I will show you around myself!” she declared, lips curving into a self-satisfied smile as she took a sip of her own tea, pinkie extended and the matter of Ylisstol effectively brushed aside. “My presence is expected, but these kinds of things are always best enjoyed with company.” 

“It will be nice to go to a festival outside of work,” Olivia confessed. “We usually made time to see the stalls, but I was always too nervous to eat much before a performance.”

A memory resurfaced of Lene waltzing into her tent, skewers of meat and vegetables held up between each finger. They had both regretted their decision to split them after, their movement sluggish enough to earn a rare dressing down from Tethys. She had been better about turning down the younger dancer’s more questionable suggestions after that.

“I would have commissioned your troupe had the timing aligned,” the duchess admitted, nibbling on a small cake as though she were doing so out of consideration for the hostess (who happened to be herself) rather than any interest in the pastry. Olivia took one and was surprised how well it matched the tea. “If it pleases you, tell me more about life in your troupe.” 

It was a simple enough prompt and once she began, the time passed without her noticing, the duchess interjecting with polite comments or questions. As their afternoon gathering came to a close, the rain slowed and the sun emerged just in time for it to set as it painted the room in gold and coral. 

~*~

Her routine altered from that moment forth and she was grateful for the change. Weeks passed almost without her noticing, one flowing smoothly into the next. Tea together became a near daily affair, the duchess suddenly so much more tangibly human somewhat ironically after the recent disclosures of her preternatural abilities. Olivia continued to join the duchess and her hunters in the woods at the duchess’s invitation, the hunters suggesting it was a welcome return to form before the duchess silenced them with a sharp look. Olivia also began spending more time in town, assisting with small tasks and paying visits to the residents she had gotten to know better. 

Mornings were for sword training and once the wolf roamed the woods again, Olivia resumed her evening dance practice outside. She was disappointed by the wolf’s continued absence and on occasion worried she had done something to discourage her company despite her interactions during the daytime with the duchess suggesting otherwise. Some nights she could see the fog of her breath in the air and she began to dress accordingly. Other evenings remained milder, the last vestiges of summer clinging to the grounds even as a shifting patchwork of color began to emerge in the mountains. 

Another letter arrived from Tethys. They had left Jehanna Court, but experienced several delays on the road, requiring a detour. With no way for her to respond with the troupe on the move again, all she could do was pray for their safe passage. She wrote to Ewan instead, telling him of the library and the town, avoiding discussing her hostess in either of her forms beyond a brief mention of the duchess’s hospitality. She was steadily making her way through the estate’s collection of fables and song books, a surprising contrast to the rows of law materials that the duchess spent most of her time in the library pouring over, the two of them crossing paths there during the evenings. Much like before, the duchess kept to a more nocturnal schedule. 

Flora found her alone in a corridor late one afternoon when she was en route to return a book.

“Miss Olivia,” she said, nearly startling her into dropping the manuscript, a volume from a collection of folk stories, each entry written by hand. She still preferred hearing them shared aloud, but she read and reread the ones she liked best and plotted out how she would breathe them into existence around a campfire or in a tavern, the expectant eyes of listeners watching her as they waited for the next detail with bated breath. They would applaud her just like her dancing and— “Miss Olivia?” Flora repeated, more insistent this time.

“Um y-yes, Miss Flora?” she asked, not entirely recovered from their last meeting alone together despite the duchess’ more favorable view of her over the past several weeks.

“I would like to apologize,” she said, stiffly, but with a focused expression as if to convey that she was serious about her admission. “My warning was rather harsh. Ylisse and its customs are still foreign to me, but I worry over milady and her well-being.”

“I um understand, I think. It’s not my place to say, but it seems she takes on too much.”

A rare smile appeared before she grew distant again. 

“Precisely. I suppose I am always watching over someone and can be somewhat overzealous. She has told me you risk your own well-being on the hunts and that you were already on ah, friendly terms with the wolf.”

“She’s watched my dancing,” she explained, her face growing warm, “Normally, I don’t like to practice in front of others, but I thought well, I thought she was a wolf!” 

The absurdity of the situation left her wanting to laugh, but that ended abruptly at the steward’s next words.

“This isn’t to say I fully trust you, Miss Olivia. I appreciate your efforts and I may have been hasty, but my responsibility first and foremost is to her ladyship.”

She stammered a few incoherent syllables before Flora turned to leave.

“She’s in the library if you are headed that way,” Flora said, her back to Olivia as she continued down the corridor.

The mixed signals were enough to leave her anxious and shaking by the time she reached the library. The solid wood doors were propped open, but no noise could be heard from the hallway. 

“Good afternoon, Olivia darling.”

The greeting came as soon as she stepped past the threshold, the duchess lifting her head as she closed a substantial volume and deftly lifted it onto a nearby stack as if she were moving papers instead of a large, bound tome. Olivia had grown accustomed to the affectionate addition, the duchess never offering an explanation and Olivia never requesting one.

She raised a hand in greeting, bowing her head as an afterthought. A warm smile broke out onto the duchess’ face as she nodded her acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon, milady.”

“Pleasant weather we’re having?” the duchess said, gesturing to one of the windows on the far end of the room, a good distance from the shelf-lined walls. 

“Oh yes, I’m hoping to practice some steps outside tonight,” she said, always eager to return the same level of friendly consideration so different from the initial weeks of frigid remoteness from the duchess and the more recent worrying hostilities from the steward.

“How wonderful! Hmm I don’t suppose tonight would be a good time then… if only my schedule—well, it cannot be helped and one shouldn’t dance on a full stomach, after all...”

She muttered something else about dining too late to herself.

“Milady?”

Her head shot up as she came to some kind of conclusion.

“It will have to be later this week then!” she proclaimed, eyes meeting Olivia’s. “That should give the kitchens more than enough time to create something to your liking. Do you have a favorite dish?”

“Um anything is fine.”

“‘ _Anything_ ’, she says! Very well, I will talk with the kitchen staff myself though I fear it will mean you will be eating _their_ favorite items to prepare. Ah! I’m getting ahead of myself! Dinner? Would you join me for dinner? If not tonight then soon? In the main hall?”

“I would love to,” Olivia said, the words tumbling out more rote phrase than genuine acceptance as her mind hadn’t quite caught up to the questions, the duchess’s hands clasped in front of her in a hopeful way. 

“Splendid! I’ll be looking forward to it!” she said with a smile that was somehow both comforting and toothy all at once before it shifted into a prim, tight-lipped grin. “Now, what brings you to the library?”

She displayed the spine of the book she had borrowed.

“I had wanted to read some stories and see if I could find new ones to tell. We commit them to memory and share them, you see.”

Despite the frequency of their more recent meetings, she hadn’t drummed up the courage to test any of her newer material on such a distinguished audience.

The duchess approached and ran a gloved finger over the impression of the title, Olivia handing it to her for further inspection.

“Ah, yes, this is from my great grandfather’s collection. He enjoyed ballads as well as folk tales. He became something of a collector in his old age, or so I am told. We never met.”

The book had a new level of importance and she was suddenly grateful she hadn’t fumbled it in the hallway when Flora had approached her.

“You’re welcome to read here, if you’d like,” the duchess said, “The lighting is excellent at this time of day.”

Olivia surveyed the table the duchess stood next to again, matching volumes stacked five and six high.

“I wouldn’t want to distract you…”

“Nonsense! It would make it feel more like a library, I think. Like the one in Ylisstol…” she said, trailing off as her expression dimmed. 

“The lighting is very nice,” she admitted. It wasn’t the first time such a recommendation had been made and her rooms were dark during the day except for the long angle of light from tall windows.

The duchess’ gaze softened at that.

“If you’re at all interested, I could show you some of my favorite compilations from great grandfather’s collection. I could use a little break,” she said, stacking another volume on top of the pile.

They spent some time browsing, Olivia observing as she navigated the collection without guidance, seemingly knowing where items were located based on memories of the shelving locations or recognizing unique physical traits. By the time they were finished, Olivia had a stack much larger than the lone book she had already returned and a paper with notes on story titles.

After dinner at the regular time with the majority of the house in attendance, she read some of the stories to relax, reviewing the short notes that had been made earlier, the duchess treating the exercise with seemingly the same rigor she applied to the study of her legal and magic tomes. She smiled at the thought and wondered if anyone did study the tales in that way.

The rest of the week continued uneventfully, the duchess remaining occupied with a steady stream of visitors from town and nearby territories. After one of their trips to town, Flora formally invited her to dinner at an appointed date and time, the exercise seeming somewhat silly considering it was the same building she normally dined in and the fact that they were carrying armfuls of items procured from the market. 

There were no plans for an expedition during the week and it was only after Olivia’s evening practice the night before the dinner with the duchess that she thought to consider whether she needed to wear anything in particular the next evening. Comments over early dinner with a group that worked an evening shift laid the seed. Fine food, fancy dress, good company, they had teased. The duchess dined apart, often working through her meals, the main hall underutilized for months. This would be something out of the ordinary. 

Far too late to bother the staff over it, she did her best to suppress the rising panic as she upended her belongings by candlelight. 

The clamor, both internal and external, left her unable to fall asleep, instead tossing and turning in the dark. First she wondered at the whereabouts of the troupe. Were they alright? Had anyone remained in Jehanna—perhaps Lalum had found her royal mercenary? Her thoughts took a darker turn as she considered whether her retrieval was worth the risk. 

Unwilling to allow her mind to wander too far down that path, she slid her legs out from under the covers and searched for warmer clothes, feeling her way around in the dark initially before giving in and relighting the same candle from earlier on one of the mage lights down the hallway, a layer of wax still pooled in the bottom of the holder. The cold floor sapped the heat from her bare feet as she hastened her return past the closed doors of empty guest rooms.

Her own borrowed quarters were in a worse state than she had thought, but she quickly gathered some items and prepared to slip out a side door onto a nearby terrace, the ground paved with stone. A modestly sized pair of griffon statues flanked either side, one rampant and the other recumbent, moss growing on their paws as if they had stepped up onto their pedestals after a ramble across the lawns. 

She leaned against a banister, combing through her hair with her fingers as she looked to the treeline, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as the mountains emerged as dark figures in the distance. 

“Having trouble sleeping?” 

The voice startled her, but not as much as it would have once, a slow smile crossing her face. 

“Good evening, milady,” she said with a bow. 

“Good evening, Olivia darling. Certainly you don’t need me to tell you it is late. I couldn’t help but notice you were out and about—and at this hour!”

Her tone was light, conversational as if more curious than concerned. 

“Are you going out for the evening?” she asked, head tilting slightly as she gathered her hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. 

“Not tonight. Just performing a routine inspection,” she said before shaking her head, “Having a bit of trouble sleeping myself actually. I had thought I would attempt to turn in at a normal hour, but it seems as though one cannot shift one’s schedule overnight no matter how willful a person they are.” She ended with a wry grin before smiling more openly at her.

Olivia spent a moment considering the expression and the equally open sky, stars clear and bright, the moon watching over them.

“Since we are both sleepless, would you like to join me?” Olivia asked, looking towards an empty bench. 

“Well… I suppose there is no harm in _listening_ for trouble instead,” she said, steepling her fingers before letting go of whatever reservations she had and gesturing for Olivia to follow. “But not that bench. Come, I’ll arrange for something more comfortable.”

She led her to a different side of the building with enough confidence no one would suspect her a thief in the night despite her opening a low window built to allow entry from the outside and to Olivia’s surprise, scaling the waist-high wall to climb into it. 

The duchess returned shortly after with overflowing armfuls of cushions and blankets. She leapt down to the grass with the same careful grace with which she seemed to complete any task, whether it was pouring tea or summoning lightning and flames, a tome held aloft in her hands. Olivia had begun to wonder during idle daydreams at the kind of dancer she would be and if their approaches were at all compatible. Secretly, she hoped there would be chance to find out before she departed, but that was more brazen than she was willing to conjure up in even absent minded woolgathering. 

“It won’t be quite the same as you described, but hopefully an approximation should suffice,” the duchess said in a conspiratorial whisper, piling her supplies on another patio, this one marked by empty vases equally as weathered as the griffons. 

“It’s almost like camp,” Olivia said with a sudden realization as she helped adjust the cushions, some clearly meant for sitting and were similar in style if not quality to the kind they would keep in their tents. 

“Splendid! You should feel right at home then,” she said, triumphant. “I could start a fire, but the mage lights are the more sensible option, I suppose.”

Before Olivia could finish admiring the display, the duchess took Olivia’s hands in her own and led her over to a set of plump green cushions. As they sat, legs folding beneath them, the duchess broke the contact, face turning sharply to look out over the dark lawn and into the trees at the edge of the woods. Strands of her unbound hair blew in the night breeze, giving off more of an impression of a thick-maned golden lion than a wolf.

“You can sense things?” Olivia asked, following her line of sight into the woods, the mountains pitch black against the blue depths of night.

“Yes, even as I am now. Things that would have been imperceptible before. Not always entirely useful or helpful,” she said and Olivia glanced back to witness the hint of a smirk, “but I’m learning to sift the sound from the noise.”

“Is it quiet tonight?”

“Fortunately, yes, at least where it matters. As I said, I don’t plan on venturing out,” she replied. “I’m finding that it is good to rest on occasion as well.” 

They didn’t talk of the morning Olivia witnessed her return, in fact, the duchess only rarely mentioned the wolf and often in a vague, distant way as if discussing an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in some time.

“Have you always been so um dedicated to the hunt?” Olivia inquired, idly braiding a section of her hair.

“No, not until after I became fully responsible for Themis. After my father passed. Before that I lived much as you might expect of someone of my standing,” she explained, detached.

Taking into consideration the state of the continents and the situation in Themis, Olivia thought she understood.

“Was it monsters?” she whispered.

Maribelle barked out a harsh cackle, the sudden outburst after muted murmurs nearly startling Olivia from her seat. She continued to laugh into the moonlight, wiping her eye as she calmed. Olivia waited as still as the unlit magefire lamp posts that lined the walk.

“Of a sort. But no, executed for a crime he didn’t commit. Posthumously absolved, but…” she said in a low voice, shaking her head. “He maintained his poise right up until the end. That’s what I’m told.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning closer until their shoulders almost touched. “I didn’t realize.”

Tethys hadn’t mentioned it. Nor had any of the staff. Not so candidly as the duchess was speaking, at least, some of their comments suddenly holding additional meaning. 

“I’ve adjusted. Not always _well_ , mind you, but I’m still here—still fighting.” She trailed off, lips curling into a grimace before her expression smoothed flat, her voice businesslike. “Enough of that. Tell me about your parents. Unless—well, only if you wish to share.”

They had never ventured into the territory of family prior—the exception being the duchess’ relatives from generations past, the estate steeped in so much history and the duchess seemingly conscious of the weight of every stone. She had often demonstrated her gift at redirecting conversation away from topics she didn’t wish to discuss and in a way this was no different, but Olivia complied, attempting to shake the guilty feeling similar to that of stepping on a dance partner’s foot.

“They were kind, from what I remember. My mother was a dancer once. She knew Tethys from those days back before she met my father. He had taken an assignment from someone in the city and saw her. They fled together and he brought her up to the village. I used to think it was so romantic, but now it sounds terrifying! I don’t know what she would think of me dancing—she gave it up—but I’m still glad Tethys found me. It was better than getting passed around. Most of us in the troupe are like that, girls without a place to go.”

Maribelle nodded slowly as Olivia regained her breath, surprising herself with how much she was willing to disclose. She hadn’t talked about her parents in so long and the bittersweet edge to the words lingered in the silence.

“If we don’t hear from your troupe again in the coming weeks, I will send Flora with you to find them,” the duchess remarked quietly. “It’s far too dangerous to travel alone, but I fear I can’t leave Themis myself.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said, startled as the duchess turned to face her.

“I had my reasons, but I still unduly influenced your decision to stay. It’s the least I could do.”

“I decided to stay on my own,” she insisted. “I didn’t want to burden Tethys or the troupe.”

“A noble sentiment.”

An anxious emptiness filled her as if she needed to say something else, but couldn’t quite reach for it in the darkness. As she floundered for the right words, a chill settled in that prompted her to wrap one of the blankets around her shoulders.

“Olivia?” the duchess said suddenly, drawing out the sounds of her name into a question.

“Yes, milady?”

“Would you mind terribly calling me by my name? I feel as though you are a friend to me. I have never been very adept at making friends, but I think it would be pleasant for us to use our names.”

“… If-if that is what you’d prefer, Maribelle,” she said, slow and deliberate, testing it out for herself.

Maribelle’s face colored at Olivia’s answer to the request, but there was a shine to her eyes and levity to her movements as she placed a hand on her breast, bowing her head.

“A pleasure making your acquaintance, Olivia,” she responded, greeting her as if she were a fellow noble and not a dancing girl separated from her troupe.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she returned with a laugh, covering her mouth and bowing in return. 

Maribelle’s face held an uneven expression for a moment before she directed her gaze to the trees again, leaning until their arms touched and closing the distance Olivia hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to span earlier. They sat quietly together, the duchess sighing softly after a time.

“I am rather difficult. I know this,” Maribelle said, head bowed as she ran her fingers over the fringe of Olivia’s blanket. “The wolf is another worry. I have often feared I would always deter true companionship. Who could come to care for such a creature?”

Olivia hesitated before placing her hand over Maribelle’s.

“This makes me think of stories we would share over the fire. I’m not the best at telling them—that would be Tethys—, but there are many tales of humans befriending shapeshifters. I can try to tell you a small piece of one story, if you’d like.”

The only response was a gentle pressure as Maribelle took her hand in return. Olivia inhaled deeply, using the delay to organize her thoughts and settling into the voice she reserved for legends and fables over crackling fires under a blanket of stars. She was never confident enough to try to woo a tavern audience like Tethys could, but perhaps just this once she could soothe an aching heart.

The first tale she stumbled through was about a dragon and a princess as they struggled to bridge a chasm of grief both fresh and centuries old. 

“And then what happened?” Maribelle asked, voice low. 

“It depends on which version of the story you believe. Many say they spent the rest of the princess’ life together, the dragon and her loyal partner side-by-side as equals. But there are many others besides that one!”

“I would like to hear some, if you aren’t too tired. It _is_ getting rather late,” she warned.

Despite all better judgment, Olivia continued on, each story flowing more smoothly than the last until they were both yawning as they gazed into the pre-dawn gloom. Her second wind long since spent, she finished with two open ended tales about an ice dragon and a lady of the waves.

“Whatever happened to them?” Maribelle asked, head resting on Olivia’s shoulder, her words felt as much as heard.

“I wish I knew,” Olivia admitted after clearing her throat, voice hoarse after so much talking. “They aren’t stories that are written and I wasn’t part of their endings. It’s not something I’ve told to Tethys or Marisa before—not in so many words, at least, but it seemed like something I should share with you.”

“Thank you. Truly,” she said, running her thumb over Olivia’s, their fingers intertwined. She had almost forgotten as it had happened during one of the last narrations and she had doggedly continued with the thread she was following, certain she would lose her nerve if she paused. “Flora said there are others like me in Nohr and certainly throughout the continents, but it is good to have a reminder that I am not so unique, nor particularly special in that sense.”

“Oh, but your wolf really is so lovely,” she insisted, turning to face her, their noses almost touching as Maribelle lifted her head in time with Olivia shifting. “I’ve never seen anything like her in all my travels.”

Maribelle stared at her, wide-eyed for a tense moment before pulling away with a whispered apology.

“I think it’s past time to turn in,” she said as she stood. “At this rate, you will skip breakfast entirely.”

Olivia had learned that with an erratic sleep schedule, Maribelle’s meal times were also irregular. 

She extended a hand and helped Olivia up before gathering the cushions in several swift movements. Before Olivia could hand over the last blanket, still wrapped around her shoulders, Maribelle held up a hand. 

“You can keep it. I rarely use them anymore anyway,” she said, gaze averted. 

“I’m sorry. That was too forward of me,” Olivia said as she stepped towards her.

She had gotten too comfortable. The lack of sleep must have addled her senses. This wasn’t camp and Lady Maribelle wasn’t a dancer who she could talk with however she pleased. Maribelle shook her head in response.

“No, I—I appreciate the sentiment. I do. I am unaccustomed of thinking of the wolf in quite those terms. It caught me by surprise. Until tomorrow—or should I say this evening?”

“Until tonight, Maribelle,” she said before they both found their respective entryways, Olivia shuffling quietly to her rooms in hopes of minimal interactions during the early hours. She nearly tripped over some loose belongings as she stumbled to her bed before collapsing into the mess of sheets and covers, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders as she slept until midday.

~*~

She had been hopeful the sun would shed a more positive light on her dress situation as she spent the afternoon trying clothing on to the dawning realization that she hadn’t brought anything appropriate for dinner with a duchess. Didn’t _own_ anything appropriate. While various nobles had seen her dancing at events of different scales, she too had front row seats to their own forms of spectacle. Tea in the still warm light of the afternoons didn’t require the same amount of pageantry as the main hall in the evening, a meal prepared in her honor. If only she could talk with Tethys. Even Lalum could come up with surprisingly clever solutions with limited supplies.

Some time after lunch, various garments tossed across her bed and the different furniture that adorned her rooms, someone knocked with a sharp rap of knuckles. Olivia recognized the visitor by the sound alone and hurried to the door to crack it open, hoping she could hide the disaster by sliding into the hall.

“May I come in?” the steward asked, close enough that Olivia would have to brush against her in order to make it past.

“Oh! Hello, Miss Flora! I don’t think—“

The woman looked over her shoulder, sighed and instead placed a hand on Olivia’s wrist.

“Come with me then. I’ll get you ready for the evening.”

She allowed the steward to ferry her down hallways and past other staff who sometimes paused in their routines to watch. She waved at the groundskeeper who grinned back and nodded to several visitors from town she recognized as they crossed the entry hall. 

“Um where are we going?”

“ _You_ are going to get ready for the evening while _I_ ensure everything runs smoothly despite any and all unforeseen circumstances that keep cropping up,” she said tersely. 

That hadn’t really answered anything, but before she could inquire further, the steward had released her wrist and was busying herself with opening a door.

“I’ve drawn a bath and acquired some appropriate attire for the evening though it might require some—“ She paused, mouth twisting, “—trial and error as I never had an opportunity to take measurements. I’ll be back momentarily. Please don’t dawdle.” 

Flora left without further instruction, disappearing through the door they had only just entered from. Olivia had vaguely hoped for a savior earlier, but was second guessing the sentiment until she dipped a toe in the warm water, a soft, floral scent emanating from the surface. Tension drained from her shoulders as she washed and by the time the steward returned, she had dried off and was garbed in a robe that had been left neatly folded on a nearby chair. She was relaxed enough that even observing the steward’s uncharacteristically harried appearance left Olivia more curious than apprehensive. 

At her own insistence, Flora waited for her to try on a series of dresses behind a partition, the steward assisting when necessary and offering commentary when warranted. They eventually settled on a green and white evening gown, Flora taking it upon herself to arrange her hair as well.

“Why do all of this?” Olivia asked as Flora intertwined locks into a braid that extended back to where a wooden clip would eventually be placed, a carved pin made of bone holding everything in place.

The steward pursed her lips.

“I could fabricate any number of half-truths, but Lady Maribelle is fond of you. That much is clear. It has been some time since she’s had a friend, I think. It’s not a role I feel comfortable in myself, so perhaps your fortuitous arrival was a boon in the end.” 

She hadn’t expected a sincere response much less anything so forward about the duchess. The silence extended as Flora continued to work, the steward’s eyes focused on her own fingers. 

“It isn’t anyone’s fault, but you very much remind me of my sister,” she said. “It’s painful in a way that’s difficult to convey. But I’ve decided to put my personal feelings aside no matter how bothersome they’ve become. I had hoped to separate myself from them by traveling all the way to Ylisse, but it’s as if things are repeating themselves in curious new ways. Lift your chin a bit—that’s it.”

She didn’t know what to say to all of that, her natural impulse pushing her to apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

The steward’s hands stopped as she blinked at her own reflection. 

“No, my apologies. I’ve said far more than I should have. Don’t misunderstand, my sister is still very dear to me.”

Olivia sighed at that, relieved that her initial fear had been disproven and her supposed doppelgänger was still alive somewhere.

“You’re close then?”

“We’re twins,” Flora responded, matter-of-fact as the pin clicked into place. “Fraternal. She’s gone to live with her wife in the western wastes of what is now Nohr. It used to be independent.” 

“The furthest north I’ve been is Cyrkensia, which isn’t really north at all,” Olivia commented, turning her head to admire Flora’s work from different angles in the mirror. “Thank you, but I still don’t understand. What made you change your mind since?”

“As I said before, my responsibility is to the duchess and while her happiness isn’t —“

A hurried set of knocks interrupted her as they both turned towards the sound. Flora shot her a meaningful look before making her way to the door.

“Miss Flora, there’s someone here for the duchess and I know she’s not to be disturbed, but—“ a young woman babbled from the hallway, Olivia attempting to place her voice among the various staff.

“I’ll take care of it. Please escort Miss Olivia to dinner.”

“Yes, but—“

“I can’t imagine it would be anything I couldn’t address myself. Where are they?”

“Alright, well, I left her in the first front room. We’ve got someone bringing her tea while she waits.”

Flora nodded crisply before turning back to Olivia.

“May you have a pleasant evening, Miss Olivia,” she said as she left, the newly arrived staff member taking her place.

“I can find the main hall myself. There’s no need to trouble yourself,” Olivia said as she watched the girl approach, closing the door behind herself. Amelia was her name. Olivia had seen her during staff meals on occasion, often sitting with the other younger staff members. With a puff, Amelia blew unruly blonde bangs from her face before shaking her head.

“No trouble at all! You look like quite the fine lady tonight, Miss Olivia, if you don’t mind me saying so,” she chirped with a wide grin, whatever worries from earlier dropped in favor of her inspecting Flora’s efforts. She circled her once, hands behind her back, cooing at her dress and the arrangement of her hair. Olivia thanked her in hopes that it would bring the impromptu evaluation to an end. Positive or not, it was still so embarrassing!

“Let’s get you to dinner. Can’t keep the duchess waiting. Haven’t seen her get all gussied up like this in forever and Miss Flora did her magic so you’re a matching pair.”

She walked beside the young woman, growing more self-conscious with every declaration, Amelia seemingly unaware of her effect as she continued to chatter. 

As they approached the main hall, the steward was escorting a tall woman in full armor from the opposite direction. She flashed Olivia a worried glance once they met up near the door.

“Excuse me a moment as I announce your arrival, Ser Knight,” she said.

“I can do so just as well, Miss Flora. My apologies for troubling you so late in the evening,” the woman said, aloof. Her long red hair was adorned with thin metal wings marking her as a Pegasus Knight.

Flora acknowledged her proposal with a sharp nod as the doors were opened for them. The duchess sat at the head of the table and to Olivia’s surprise, several of townspeople were in attendance, Maribelle in the middle of a conversation with a tall, blonde woman who Olivia recognized as one of the innkeepers, her laughter carrying across the hall. The knight stepped forward, light armor clinking as she bowed to the young duchess and announced her arrival.

“Cordelia of the Pegasus Knights, formerly stationed at the border outpost just north of here. I was instructed by the captain of the Exalt’s guard to travel to Themis with several of my sisters-in-arms to address a letter of distress.”

The duchess’ expression grew closed, eyes calculating as she greeted the new arrival.

“Welcome to Themis, Lady Cordelia. Impeccable timing,” she remarked coolly. “As we are all friends here, I believe it won’t be an issue if I disclose the contents of my report. We have reason to believe Plegia has been supplying what appear to be bandits at the border. They have been harrying merchants for well over a year now—“

“Pardon me, ma’am, but you are aware this is an issue at nearly _all_ our borders,” the Knight interjected, whispered side conversations coming to an abrupt halt as the room grew hush.

“If you permit me to finish, Ser _Knight_ , I have it on good authority they are now employing large numbers of wyvern riders. This is a full scale threat and her Grace sends a small contingent of Pegasus Knights? And a captain who dares question me in my own home? I sent as much detail in missive as I could. Do you think this is some sort of hysterical plea at the first sign of trouble?” 

A silence permeated the hall as the onlookers eyed their neighbors askance. One of the officials from town dropped a utensil with a clatter, cutting through the some of the tension. 

“My apologies. I spoke out of turn,” Cordelia said. “I’ve made arrangements for us to stay in town. We will be doing our own patrols at the border for the time being and report our findings to Captain Phila. You will be apprised of our results as well, ma’am,” she said with a tone of finality, bowing at the waist.

“Much better. Would you like to join us for dinner then?”

“I should return to town—“ the woman began to say.

“I insist, Ser Knight. I would like to know more of what you have seen along our borders,” the duchess said, narrowing her eyes before the intensity of the mood lifted as she turned to Olivia with a surprisingly contrite expression. “My apologies, Olivia, darling. I will make it up to you. I suppose I should introduce everyone. Olivia is my guest, Ser Knight.”

The knight turned to her. There was no title and little explanation to accompany her introduction. 

“Cordelia is fine, ma’am,” she said before nodding in greeting to Olivia. 

The duchess then went around the table as Olivia took a seat next to the innkeeper and the Knight was ushered by Flora to a chair next to the duchess and two of the town officials. 

“Monsters have been an issue as well, Miss Cordelia. Have you found that to be the case further north?” the duchess asked.

“Quite often. We deal with them as the need arises.”

“For us it is a constant. I suggest your knights do not wander during the evenings. Some fiends will not be deterred by you taking flight. We have small contingents who are familiar with beast slaying and a guardian wolf of sorts. I advise you leave her to her business.”

“A wolf?” she inquired with a frown.

“Why, yes. You might hear about her in the town as well though she has been sighted on both sides of the mountains.”

“How odd.”

“Very little is normal of late.”

“I can agree to that,” she said with a bitter smile as she lifted her drink.

As the evening winded down and the duchess bade farewell to her guests, the Knight approached her near the front entrance where everyone was gathered, a staff member sent to retrieve her pegasus.

“How did you come to know the duchess then?” she asked. 

“She assisted my troupe when we were attacked by wild dogs in the mountains. I was injured and travel would have been difficult. I’m only here awaiting their return.”

It was an honest response and she hoped it might shine a light on the another dimension of the duchess’ activities. The intensity of the earlier frictions had faded after the initial confrontation, but there had been a noticeable sharpness to Maribelle’s words the rest of the evening, Cordelia keeping any further opinions to herself.

“I see. I had heard Themis was troubled, but that we would be sent—“ She shook her head. “The entire halidom is mobilized. We don’t have the resources to expend on any one particular duchy that may or may not have a wyvern problem. In the end, it’s not my place to question it and I fear I’ve already attracted your hostess’ ire. But I should be going. Good night, Miss Olivia.”

“Good night, Miss Cordelia,” she said, the woman’s back already turned, her mount ambling placidly as it was led by the reins. Olivia watched as the pegasus took a running leap into the night sky, eventually fading into the darkness. 

As the last guest left, Maribelle made her way to Olivia’s side. They stood under the light of the magefire lamps, the main path lined with cypress, evenly spaced, each standing tall like soldiers awaiting their next set of orders.

“Well! That didn’t go quite as planned,” Maribelle said, still composed despite the earlier excitement. “I had hoped we could spend a pleasant evening together, but meetings were pushed right up until dinner and I’ve erm, neglected some of my responsibilities of late. The festival is just around the corner and then on top of it all an envoy is sent from the capital. It certainly took them long enough,” Maribelle groused before turning to evaluate her. “I’m so sorry if this all was overwhelming. You look magnificent, darling, and I regret I hadn’t said so sooner.”

She offered her arm, Olivia taking it as they began to stroll further from the main building. The constant warmth of her touch no longer surprised her, the partial embrace welcome on the cool autumn night. Not for the first time of the evening, Amelia’s observation about Flora working her magic on the both of them came back to her. Maribelle wore a dusky rose dress with jewelry to match, her hair in loose curls. 

“It’s alright,” Olivia reassured her, face still pleasantly pink from the after dinner wine and growing warmer from the attention. “And well, Flora helped me with the dress. I didn’t really do anything—“

Maribelle’s hold tightened as she scowled.

“Stop right there. I meant what I said and that’s all there is to it. For a woman who is brimming with beauty and exceptionally skilled, you downplay your strengths to an exasperating degree. I simply won’t hear it!”

With a shaky voice, she attempted to respond, but wasn’t entirely certain how.

“I— I’m sorry?” she mustered, ducking her head.

Maribelle froze, bringing them both to a halt. 

“Perhaps that was slightly more forceful than necessary,” Maribelle admitted, leaning closer. “I’m still somewhat on edge from earlier and regrettably, I won’t be able to recreate anything similar the entirety of this week.” She hesitated, her face shifting into a pensive mien. 

“Is there much for the festival you need to prepare yourself?” Olivia asked, tucking a stray lock behind her ear, still not entirely recovered from the praise.

“To a degree though my part is mostly giving my blessings to those who did the actual preparations. I had to make peace tonight as there was a rather considerable oversight on my part with regards to timing. I realized rather late that this year the festival as scheduled to take place during the harvest moon.”

“Oh dear,” Olivia murmured.

“Indeed,” Maribelle said, nodding gravely. “I had abstained from making an appearance the previous year except to root out some revenants, but had ruffled some feathers in doing so. It is customary for the duke—or duchess—to attend, particularly during the evening portion when the square is cleared for dancing. Speaking of—well, after all the excitement tonight, I was hoping I could make it up to you by requesting you accompany me as my guest.”

“Your guest?”

“Yes, as I have mentioned before, I would be delighted to show you around,” she explained, a warm undertone to her voice as she met Olivia’s gaze. “There is no one else to whom I would rather extend such an invitation.”

A response came to mind. Something simple and clear that would leave them in much the same situation as before, but outside at night, perhaps it really was the time to be a bit forward, to press for a different answer before uncertainty could bleed into her thoughts.

“There are plenty of young men who I’m sure would love a chance to get to know you in my place,” she said cautiously.

Maribelle’s posture stiffened at the suggestion, brows drawing in as she regarded her.

“I think the young men are somewhat intimidated. It’s not particularly charming for a lady to ride into the woods and do battle with fiends, don’t you think?” she asked, eyes glittering dangerously. Olivia swallowed as her throat constricted. “And the other small matter of lycanthropy goes without saying,” she muttered, deftly lightening the mood. Olivia released an unsteady breath and licked her lips—when had her mouth gotten so dry?

“Oh, but I think they would find you dashing if they saw you on your horse!“

Maribelle shook her head at her attempts, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Perhaps Olivia was going too far and yet so many hints had begun to gather themselves.

“Consider that I might not find men charming myself—not in the way many a lady might,” she said, chin held high even as the flush grew deeper.

Olivia had begun to suspect—even wish, if she was being honest. Maybe it was the wine in combination with her host's flustered appearance that pushed her to make the request. She dearly hoped she was reading the situation correctly, but even if not—it would be a shame to let the moment pass! Tethys would have encouraged her to seize the opportunity and hold it close, and so, she did.

“I would be happy to attend with you, but if you’re obligated to make an appearance, could I have the first dance then? I would rather dance with you than all those strangers. And it’s what I do, after all!” 

Her boldness was rewarded as Maribelle’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. 

“It would be churlish of me to refuse an invitation from one so skilled!”

They continued their walk, Maribelle leaning her head on her shoulder as she had the night before. 

“I’m glad the night could be salvaged after all,” she said as they eventually arrived back at the main entrance. 

Tethys sometimes said that night was the time of everyday magic—an evening dance lit by firelight, a drop of courage in the longest shadows, peace hidden in the stillness. As they parted, Maribelle brought Olivia’s hands to her lips in a chaste kiss before wishing her a good night, the clack of her shoes growing faint as she disappeared further into the manor house. Olivia stood lightheaded a moment, alone in the foyer. She hadn’t remembered how or when she finally made it back to her rooms, but the next morning found her in bed having managed to change out of her dress and fall asleep in a pleasant haze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar with Sacred Stones, the doglike monsters referenced in chapter 1 are the Mauthe Doog. They and their stronger variant are exclusive to Sacred Stones (whereas Mogall and some other monster enemies were originally introduced in Gaiden, which is what SoV is a remake of).


	6. The Forest and the Trees

Perhaps it wasn’t prudent to go out into the woods with the knights patrolling. She had spied them at a distance, their mounts circling the skies, fully unfurled wings bright cream against bitter blue. Clearly they had been sent to scout rather than provide additional defenses. She mentioned her observations to Flora as the steward dressed her for an early afternoon hunt. She hoped to catch the last of the day’s sun and root out some of the fiends more likely to be sluggish at that time of day. 

“You are worried they underestimate the threat?” the steward said, adjusting a leather strap holding a pauldron in place. 

Olivia sat in a chair, quietly observing, long hair pulled back in a high ponytail and two braids framing her face. Flora had raised her brows when Maribelle had sent for the dancer, but yielded to the request without further comment. She hadn’t broached the topic previously as she was certain to receive only the most diplomatic of responses from the steward, but it hadn’t escaped her attention that Flora’s cool indifference to their guest had thawed considerably of late. 

In the present, however, a chill still hung in the air, her tone wooden in the company of an additional observer. Olivia did her best to look politely disinterested, still silently listening, long fingers curled around the base of her chair.

Thoughts of Olivia assisting her in Flora’s place appeared unbidden. The favor would be returned, naturally, clever hands securing armguards, not a stitch out of place. Abruptly, she banished the vision before it could fully form. Daydreams had drawn her focus lately, like dust motes just out of sight, small distractions at often inopportune times. Audiences with town officials and visiting nobility trended towards dull more often than not. Many scrambled for her attention with the last of the harvest festival plans falling into place. It was no wonder her mind wandered from time to time.

“That was my initial assumption,” she said, focus snapping back into place, lightning quick. Flora’s hands worked steadily, but she was undoubtedly drawing her own conclusions about the current circumstances. “Now I fear that three knights were all who could be spared. Perhaps we will receive more aid, but the situation in Ylisse is more precarious than I could ever have conceived even two years ago. The Exalt has worked tirelessly to change things for the better, but it could all be undone in an instant.” 

She breathed deeply and consoled herself with the thought of the upcoming festivities. There would be plenty of woods to clear out in the meantime. The previous year, the increased activity had drawn the attention of the more mindless variants of fiends and she wasn’t about to risk that happening again. She adjusted her collar, smiling at Olivia who returned the gesture. 

“With any luck, we’ll be back not long after sundown,” she announced, attention returning to the steward who nodded as she stepped back to appraise her efforts. 

“Understood. I will make dinner preparations for you both then?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, lips quirking downward before she turned to Olivia, the woman sitting up straighter in response, long braids swaying with her sudden movement. “Just so you know, my diet is somewhat… non-traditional. But nothing _gruesome_. It’s just that it’s the full moon soon and if I don’t prepare accordingly, I will most certainly regret it.”

She had attempted to forgo such appetites previously and ended up ravenous and irritable, the wolf devouring an entire deer in retaliation despite her weak-stomached human qualms. A splitting headache and roiling nausea had plagued her the next day—how much due to self-inflicted distress or the belated slaking of that discomforting hunger, she wasn’t certain. She hadn’t made the same mistake again, opting to trust her new instincts—for the most part. 

Olivia hummed, shaking her head. 

“It’s alright,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “I don’t mind.”

They hadn’t seen much of the other since the dinner. She had held the wolf on a short leash ever since Olivia learned of her true nature, worried her affections would be made plain in that other form. Wanting to be touched and admired came all too easily when she shed her human trappings and inhibitions, the wolf craving sympathetic company ever since her first run alone in the woods.

She had already told Olivia many things in the late hours, little secrets escaping like the butter colored moths Lissa would capture in the gardens, powdered wings beating against cupped hands—fragile things in need of careful handling. But each tentative offering was matched with equal sincerity and a terrible hope had taken root and began to grow even as dread followed the steps she took alone in the woods, something rotten looming just outside her range of perception. She hadn’t crossed the border since the night of fog and wyverns, more careful than ever not to reveal her presence, but she planned to investigate once the knights had sent in their report.

“Very well,” she said, quieter than intended before shaking off any remaining melancholy. “It should be a more satisfactory experience than the previous time, I would think. Less rousing, at the very least. I do hope that’s alright.”

She allowed a smirk to escape, fingers fanned out with a dramatic flourish. Olivia laughed in response. 

“As long as I don’t have to listen to that guild master talk about the deals he made with traveling merchants, I think it will be an improvement.” 

“My apologies again for the unanticipated guests. I am still making up for lost time from the last month. Canceling engagements for over a week wreaked havoc on my scheduling.”

“Oh no!” Olivia interjected, waving a hand to dispel the concern. “The innkeeper handled him herself.”

“As would be expected! I’ve grown rather fond of her even if her husband is something of a braggart. As if arm wrestling were a test of character!” she said with a derisive sound.

Olivia giggled, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“How surprised would he be if you defeated him soundly yourself, Maribelle?” she asked. Flora breathed in sharply behind her, but Olivia had her attention, so she paid it little mind. “Did I ever tell you he said I should stick to dancing? That it was dangerous for a woman to wield a sword?”

“Well, perhaps I shall then! Can you imagine?” she exclaimed, leaning towards her.

They both shared a laugh at the imagery only to be interrupted as Flora cleared her throat, causing them to pause in their merriment.

“I’ll have your horse brought around, milady.”

She followed the statement with a bow before Maribelle could finish formally dismissing her, the room warmer in her wake. Maribelle flushed at the shift in tone, feeling as if she had been indirectly admonished, but laughed that off as well. For all her worries, neither her guest nor the steward lurked in the thick of them. 

“Ah!” Olivia said, bringing a hand to her cheek. “Your name. Was that impolite?”

“I’ll speak with her, but I suppose it might sound overly informal to use in the presence of company,” she said, wincing. “I meant what I said though. You are a dear friend to me and I am looking forward to a return to afternoon tea once things have calmed down.”

She extended a hand to gently pull Olivia to her feet, her arm returning promptly or her side even though she was tempted to allow her hand to linger. Olivia made her own final adjustments, rolling the sleeves of a ruffled shirt and securing a double wrapped belt over a padded gambeson. Maribelle did a final check in the mirror as well, watching for her companion and turning when she appeared ready.

“We should be on our way then.” 

Olivia nodded, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

“I’m ready.”

With the festival around the corner and several hunters involved in preparations, she continued to be grateful for Olivia’s presence at her side.

~*~

Normally, her appetite would leave her sullen after such an extended expedition, but their earlier success and their imminent meal resulted in high spirits. Later in the week she would finish what they started as the wolf, crushing the last miserable sets of reanimated bones and entering the final caverns she dared not send their earlier party to investigate. 

Crows called to each other shrilly from the trees, black forms stark against the crimson of the setting sun. Their animated conversation triumphed over the harsh ensemble. The hounds trailed them, tongues lolling and tails wagging as if they, too, were in on the joke. Maribelle told stories of a different life. A young prince and his companions causing a commotion in the practice yards, the chaos following them into the great hall for dinner. She shook her head and clucked her tongue.

“Court was oftentimes wearisome to navigate and my tales aren’t as riveting as yours, but I do find that I miss it on occasion,” she said, finding a strange peace in the admission in place of the usual internal rancor she experienced thinking of bygone days. 

“Oh, but every court is different and I must admit, I’ve never seen a prince break furniture during a dinner, especially not one with so many important guests in attendance.”

Her serious tone dissolved into giggling. Olivia’s own stories of noble houses and far off fortresses were nearly as fascinating as her fairytales. 

“Some said the Exalt was too lenient with her siblings, but the princess is the kindest soul you could ever hope to meet in all of Ylisse.”

_Ah, there it is._

A sharp twist. She had said too much. Olivia looked up at her, forehead creasing.

“Maybe you can return one day? The knights are here and—”

She shook her head.

“It’s alright, darling. I’ve accepted that my fate lies here in Themis. Life goes on in any case. No one is so important for that not to be true. I am fortunate for the considerable amount of support I have received, so let us all enjoy the festival this week. Much work has gone into the preparation and I would like to think that we have earned a respite.”

They were silent for a time, Olivia sidling up to her horse. She had already taken the time to clean her blade when they regrouped at the end of the hunt. Every creature had been dealt with efficiently, many reduced to dust and ash, Maribelle’s tome lighter at the end of the day, its spells mostly spent. The magic in her staves remained dormant and beyond windswept hair and some ashy smudges on her pale gloves, she felt as though she had only just warmed up for the evening.

Olivia had progressed by leaps and bounds since the anxious hand wringing she had exhibited during her first hunt. Maribelle thought to commend her on her service, but instead a different pair of inquiries came forth.

“You will go back to the road again after this? To Jehanna perhaps?”

“Oh, I-I don’t know.”

The darting gaze and sunken shoulders returned. Maribelle released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“What is it you dream of then?” she questioned hastily. “If you don’t mind my asking? To inherit the troupe and its reputation from your guardians?”

_Will you travel far where I cannot follow?_

The questions weren’t entirely fair. She doubted Olivia would press her to reveal the same. 

“I actually was hoping to someday not travel as much,” she admitted, slowly, a hand coming up to clutch at her other arm. 

Maribelle murmured a questioning hum in response.

“Well, I um, I was hoping to one day start a theater. It’s—it’s really just a dream though. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate the troupe! I love traveling with them. If I were able to, I’d take them all in myself. I worry sometimes about what might happen.”

“You wish to care for them on your own?” she asked. 

“It’s gotten more difficult lately,” Olivia explained. “I think it took a lot for them to swallow their pride and ask for a job in Jehanna. Tethys in particular doesn’t want to return to mercenary work. Marisa wouldn’t mind, I think, but—”

“The rest of your companions.”

She nodded.

“Perhaps you can all remain in Themis for a time. There is still the solstice celebration and I’ve _quite_ enjoyed having company.”

Olivia’s face colored at the slight inflection. Maribelle had made her own vague considerations of a future after the troupe’s return. Months had passed, the occasional outside letter arriving for Olivia. She wasn’t ready to bare her hopes so soon, but she had grown accustomed to having someone with whom talking came easily even if the subject matter itself was sometimes mired in complicated sentiments. It was just as important that it was someone unafraid of the wolf despite every story, every warning stressing the contrary. If she examined their mutual regard too closely, Olivia’s continued faith in her was dizzying. Had she truly earned it? Would this too go up in ash and smoke as everything else had? It might be best for all involved to part ways when the time came.

“Do you have dreams, too, Maribelle?” Olivia asked, interrupting her brooding, surprising her once again. She hadn’t learned not to assume, apparently, and took the self-reproach in stride. 

“Me? Why, of course,” she said, recovering swiftly. “I still work towards them even if they seem more difficult to obtain than ever. I have long desired to become a magistrate. I have witnessed injustice and the more I study, the more I recognize how prevalent it is.” Jaw set, her fists tightened around the reins. She took a calming breath before turning to look at Olivia again. “But I would be delighted to see you grace the stage one day. I would love to hear more about it over dinner.”

When they sat at the head of the table together, Olivia spreading jam on warm bread as she did the same with soft marrow, they talked in low voices of other seemingly far off hopes and she began to believe that a theater would indeed be quite fitting in Themis, that her studying alone during the long hours of night wasn’t entirely for naught. The impressions followed past dinner into late evening, hand still as she gazed into the darkness outside the ring of candlelight, droplets of ink drying on the page and staining her skin black.

~*~

It was late in the season for a swim. She removed water with a violent shake of her coat, her broad feet splayed on water-smoothed stones lining the edge of a forest lake. The mogalls left a rank taste on her tongue, their flesh gelatinous in texture, covered in a slimy film. She ripped them from the air one-by-one, careful to avoid their magic, the beams of light more damaging than poorly aimed bonewalker arrows. All-in-all, the wolf was pleased with the progress thus far. 

As she padded across an open meadow, pausing once for another vigorous shake, a sudden arrival of wing beats drowned out the subtler night noises. Softer than a gargoyle’s. The scent of horse. A charged shout. Then a rush of air to her side as a bolt of metal hit the ground several paces to her right. 

The knights. How pointless. She had warned them. She distanced herself from the javelin, the light of the full moon glinting off the surface. More curious than alarmed, she craned her neck to watch their silhouettes. Another javelin was pitched in her direction, the shaft whistling past her ear as she sidestepped it with ease. Perhaps they weren’t aiming to hit her at all. 

The pegasi held their positions, spindly legs treading air as their riders balanced the next round of bolts. The knight who had visited the estate raised a hand and held it, the other lowering her aim. Two. How curious.

“Begone before we mistake you for a shepherd killer,” she called from her perch, far out of reach, scarlet tresses haloed by the light of the moon on her back, casting her face in shadow.

 _That_ caught her attention. A growl rumbled deep in her throat.

She didn’t need to be both human and wolf to understand the jagged warning in the woman’s voice. A worry nagged at her, clawing in the dark. This was not the battle to fight.

Her hackles raised, they endured a tense face-off before she backed down, returning home in the chill night air several hours earlier than planned, her coat mostly dry by the time she reached the grounds. An unintended consequence of her retreat was finding Olivia concluding her evening practice.

“Lady Wolf!” Olivia called, voice bright. She was both troubled and delighted at the greeting, a welcome home friendlier than the cool regard Flora had met her with time and again. The dancer bowed and waved, a hand fluttering in the air before she brought one to cover her mouth, her brows knitting. She slowly bridged the distance, fingers curling closed as the slope of her shoulders fell and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I hope it’s alright to address you like that.”

Before Olivia could wilt any further, she nosed her shoulder and laid next to her, her companion following suit a moment later, a smile blooming across her face. 

“Welcome back,” she said, reaching out to her as she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes as Olivia ran her hand over her cheek. “It’s been awhile. I thought I had done something to um well, not scare you off exactly...” She shook her head before hopping to her feet again. The wolf’s ears stood on end before tilting in her direction.“Oh! It’s really not entirely ready,” she said, walking backwards as she continued to address her, not once losing her footing in the dark. “There are still a few spots that I think could be polished, but I’ve been working on that dance for you! Just as I promised. Let me get my things.” 

She ran back to the building, deftly looping her dancer’s rings around her wrists, the connecting fabric flowing behind her. With a deep breath, one hand raised above the other, she held a starting position, the wolf’s full attention absorbed in the display. With a sudden burst of movement she began, her steps confident despite her earlier warnings of the dance’s incompletion. 

This was different than the dances she had seen before, she worried. Fierce and unrelenting until Olivia moved closer, beckoning her with a hand. She rose to her feet, hesitant, but approached, spellbound by the motions. As soon as she reached her, the dance shifted, Olivia’s soft-soled shoes connecting with the grass in sprightly steps.

“You as well, Lady Wolf!” she said, cheering her. “Just like before!” 

She wove around her, the moon lighting the way as they danced on the open lawns lining the backside of the guest quarters. Olivia took several steps and leaps for each of hers, adjusting her timing to match. When it seemed as though her movements slowed, she came to a halt, tail swaying as Olivia wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug.

“Thank you!” she gasped, out of breath. The wolf laid down again, Olivia somehow managing to gracefully slump down next to her, laughing breathlessly. “That was fun. I don’t know why, but I don’t get as nervous when you’re like this.” She paused, looking at her hands as she swallowed. “Though maybe it’s a strange thing to say.”

A cold nose gently prodded her side and Olivia yelped before sitting up straighter and bringing her hand once again to the wolf’s face to pat her cheek. Had it been anyone else, she would have considered baring some teeth in warning, but once again she leaned into the touch, careful not to press too forcefully. 

“Oh, alright. I’m glad you seemed to enjoy it, at least.”

She huffed in response, but bit back the sound when Olivia yawned, goading her to follow suit with a wide-mouthed yawn of her own, her large jaw clacking as it shut. 

Olivia shivered and Maribelle shifted closer still, fur brushing against the dancer’s back and causing the woman to stiffen before she relaxed, sinking further into her coat. The stand off in the woods nearly forgotten, she stretched her forelegs, careful not to jostle her companion. Olivia turned, her shoulder pressed against her pelt, a hand gently stroking fur. She could hear Olivia’s heartbeat, slowing from a fast-paced pitter patter to a tranquil rhythm, her own mellowing in sync. 

This was foolish, a part of her warned, but the wolf noted with smug confidence that even if she held any regrets the next morning, she would return to do the same again one day or another. Giving up the fight, she released any stubborn apprehensions with a long canine sigh.

“Maribelle?” Olivia asked after some time, still brushing her fingers over her side. She opened an eye and tilted an ear in her direction. “It’s good to see you again.”

The temptation to shift back then and there arose, but the moon held sway that night. As indecorous as it was, she would crawl through the window and bring them bundled covers again, enough layers to sit and watch the horizon shift from aubergine to amber, warmed more by her proximity than any blanket. Without any say in the matter, she contented herself with the contact, Olivia eventually dozing for a time as she rested her own eyes, one ear directed towards the woods.

~*~

She hadn’t taken kindly to the early wake up call. It was dawn when she had dragged herself into bed only to be disturbed several hours later by a nervous attendant and escorted to her study after she had dressed for the morning.

“No need to wear a hole in the rug, Miss Cordelia. It’s from Begnion, by the way. Worth a small fortune in today’s market, but given as a gift for services rendered,” she said, chin resting on her laced fingers. 

The knight paused in her pacing, dark shadows under her eyes. The wolf hadn’t forgotten the encounter the night before and she made a half-effort to not let the residual irritation color her words. 

“My apologies,” she said, emotionless.

“Please, take a seat and tell me what brings you here at this early hour,” Maribelle responded. 

“It’s nearly noon, milady,” Flora whispered from where she stood behind her. She swiveled in her seat to look at her, blinking in wide-eyed surprise.

“Is it? Well, it appears we all had a late night,” she grumbled. 

“I did attempt to contact you earlier, but I wish to request your leave to return to my post.”

“You’ve hardly just arrived. What could you have discovered in that time? It can’t have been much more than a week?”

“Nearly two weeks. We found no signs of wyverns, milady, but our third has not returned from the border outpost. We had sent her with a message to the squadron captain. It is only half a day’s flight away and the skies have been clear every day on both sides of the mountains.” 

“Could she have taken shelter from flying fiends?”

“We had considered it though I have never seen anything further north as you have here. We did a sweep last night and didn’t find a trace of her. Just some beasts.” Maribelle did her best to fight back a withering stare. “I have received word from Ylisstol in the interim.” Cordelia paused, her lips pressed thin. “I don’t see a problem with telling you as we were sent here with her express orders. An attempt was made on the Exalt’s life. There were enough witnesses, but nothing to tie the assassins back to any location.”

She hadn’t expected that, a cold knot developing in her stomach at the news.

“I see,” she said gravely. “Surely we both harbor the same suspicion. War has seemed inevitable of late. They’ve been prodding the borders for well over a year now. Go, if you wish, but I would wait for word from Ylisstol. I assume you have notified them and they plan to investigate first.” The knight nodded from where she stood. “Come now, just the two of you would be madness with the way things are. I have no one to spare. Not anyone who can take to the skies, at least, but I will ensure you are well supplied when you do depart.” 

“I suppose you are right,” she reluctantly admitted. “And thank you for the offer.”

Her mouth curved into a half-smile as she assessed the knight.

“I know in these dire times it might seem inappropriate to celebrate, but consider attending the festival tonight. You should receive a response soon enough.”

“I will… consider it. Thank you, milady,” she said, leaving shortly after.

When Flora returned, Maribelle was still contemplating the full range of information Cordelia had provided.

“What did you make of that? I don’t think we can postpone the festivities,” she said, biting her lip, fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on the desk.

“It would be difficult,” Flora said, “Not impossible, however...”

“Impossible without causing a commotion, you mean?” she interrupted. “I wasn’t seriously considering it. Too many visitors made the trek.”

The steward frowned.

“I do not believe it would be a popular decision, milady,” Flora confirmed. “The knight said there were no wyverns sighted.”

“We’ll have them close the gates at the normal hour. Alert the garrison in town. The hunters as well, don’t you think?” 

“I think that would be wise.”

She sighed, propping her head on curled fingers. “I suppose I can still dance in my riding clothes though they aren’t what I had hoped to wear tonight,” she lamented.

Even in Themis on the night of a festival it seemed she wasn’t allowed to enjoy the finer things.

“Should I instruct Miss Olivia to bring her sword? The town has been rather lax on regulating arms though I cannot say it will be the same for a gathering of this size.”

“Please do. Besides, I will be accompanying her myself.”

“Yes, of course.”

They had stumbled through a conversation about the dancer the day before and had once again reached an understanding. The process had been painstaking for them both as reluctant as they were to talk directly about anything as messy as feelings tended to be.

“I hope you will find time to enjoy yourself as well,” Maribelle said, watching her face for subtle changes.

“I will make an appearance if time allows. There are several items that need to be restocked, spices and the like. I hope to finish most of the procurement later today.”

As she had learned from previous exchanges, Flora would do as she wished in the end. So, instead of pressing the matter, she continued to make adjustments to her plans, the steward providing her thoughts.

~*~

The weather held up all afternoon and into the evening. She could smell a hint of rain on the air, but the clouds still shone vibrant gold against the setting sun, their blue underbellies matching the frigid mountain peaks. Instead of one large meal, they had grazed on small portions purchased at stalls throughout the evening, Olivia turning down offers of gifts beyond a hand pie and some fruit. They stopped by the inn and managed to spot several of the hunters, their archer deep enough in his cups to offer to buy them all a drink. Olivia promised to save them a dance—if they were still standing by the time the music started. 

It didn’t escape Maribelle’s notice that people watched them wander down the narrow streets parallel to the square, each road just wide enough for a rider and lance to pass without hindrance. She could hear the speculation and aimed a few pointed looks at some of the less charitable remarks.

In the last of the daylight, they had paused their wandering to watch a theater troupe. The discussion after the play was of far greater interest than the performance itself. Olivia held onto her arm as she explained the different techniques that were used on the makeshift stage.

“How did you learn all of this?” Maribelle asked.

“Oh! I just ask around and sometimes we add some additional effects to our own performances,” Olivia said, one arm securely held under Maribelle’s own. Her free hand opened and closed as if searching for fabric to worry. It settled on smoothing over her padded jacket instead. Maribelle eyed the sword at her side, a precaution she hoped would not be necessary. “For larger festivals, we usually aren’t the only act.”

“Oh? I wouldn’t have thought something like that would come easy to you,” she said.

A sheepish grin crossed Olivia’s face.

“It’s not as though I have a difficult time talking with everyone, milady. Just when I’m nervous and well, you made quite an impact when we first met.”

“Well, I should like to think I’ve left a more favorable impression since,” she said, but softened it with a smile. Olivia had learned to tell when she was teasing.

“Oh, only the very best impression, milady!” she responded, bowing her head. It was something like a game, but they were making up the rules as they went along. A more pleasant play of words and gestures than she had ever had to endure in Ylisstol. She couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself this much and it was only the first day.

“They should have cleared off part of the square by now. If I am remembering correctly, I believe you promised me a dance.”

Olivia stopped in her tracks and without warning took her by the hand as she marched towards the square, a slanted smile appearing on her face, her expression expectant. Not that Maribelle could comment, her face warm from watching the silent gasp of surprise turn into a determined hunt for the source of the music that they had been hearing as they meandered past shops and homes. 

Others had a similar idea and they were swept up in the flow of bodies as people returned to the square. They watched for a time, Olivia continuing to clutch her hand, taking in the steps as her boot tapped in time with the music. As the song ended, she turned to her and bowed, extending a hand.

“Care to dance?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She certainly knew how to dance, how to mimic movements and keep even the most unruly of partners in check in order to follow a prescribed pattern to perfection. It wasn’t her arena to direct, however, so she breathed deeply and allowed Olivia to take her hand and lead. 

They didn’t match right away, but instead of annoyance, delighted laughter bubbled forth and she was startled to realize the sound was coming from her. Olivia shined with a self-possessed air and much like the first time she saw her practice. She couldn’t help but admire her more for it. When she realized the giddiness had gone to her knees, she instinctively stiffened again, her partner alerted to the change immediately.

“No need to be so formal,” Olivia teased, raising her hand as they turned in time with the music, onlookers clapping from the sidelines. “You dance wonderfully!”

When they stopped to catch their breath, another pair taking their place, Maribelle leaned close to her.

“As much as I enjoyed last night, this is even better. Don’t you think, my dear?” she asked, voice lilting upwards sweetly and having the intended effect. Olivia stammered a response, her glowing confidence from the dance floor snuffed out as swiftly as it had flared into being.

“Ah, I-I yes! Good. It was good.” 

She had composed herself, but was happy to see she wasn’t the only one reduced to flustered gibbering.

“No need to be so nervous. You dance rather well,” she said, prodding back and winking for good measure. Olivia blinked at her in surprise before mock scowling as she nudged her with an elbow.

“Oh! You—!”

“I ‘what’, darling?” 

She had grown deaf to the constant clamor, any attempt to sort the noises in the square itself ending with a dull ringing in her ears, but a sour note rang out in the distance sending a ripple through the crowd. Shouts of merriment shifted to cries of alarm. Smoke rose into the air as she gripped Olivia’s arm above the wrist, nails digging into the fabric of her sleeve. Abruptly, she pulled her hand away, briefly fretting that she had left a mark. Olivia shook her head, silently telling her not to worry even as she rubbed her forearm.

“Let’s see what this is about,” she said, gingerly taking Olivia by the hand.

As they made their way to the gatehouse, the stench of smoke increased. It appeared to be coming from outside the walls. Flora found them almost immediately on a narrow street, the main roads clotted with revelers and vendors fleeing haphazardly, the source of the fires unclear.

“Brigands,” she reported. “They’ve set fire to homes outside the town walls. I’ve sent word to the estate. They will be prepared for assaults both magical and otherwise.”

“They were never so brazen as to directly attack anything as large as Themis,” Maribelle said, anger the likes of which she hadn’t experienced in months sharpening her words. 

“It’s unclear how many there are.” 

“I’m going to parley with whoever is leading that filthy pack of reprobates,” she snarled, the air around her buzzing. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and accepted a satchel with tomes from the steward. The one thing that gave her pause in the chaos was the hand on her shoulder.

“Maribelle,” Olivia said, close enough to whisper, but that was all her ears needed even with the unsettling roar of ambient noise. From her peripheral vision, she could see Flora subtly edging away around a corner, making herself scarce. 

Indecision swamped her. Olivia was already in too deep, drowning in personal affairs she hadn’t shared with anyone prior. The hunts weren’t laying her life on the line in the same way, not with herself there to oversee and guide them. This was different. More unpredictable.

“This isn’t your fight. You can return to the estate. There are fortifications there. You’ll be safe,” she said, clutching at the fabric of her sleeve, careful not to bruise.

Each clipped sentence arrived more urgently than the last and in the dark, she could sense Olivia change her stance, stepping towards her and pulling her close. Everything came together so vividly, Olivia pressing her lips against hers before she pulled away all too soon, her next words a prayer.

“For luck,” she whispered, gaze sharply averted as if her courage had run out, a hand that hadn’t quite made contact lingering by Maribelle’s cheek.

She froze for several heartbeats, the sound thrumming in her chest and ears as she watched Olivia slowly curl in on herself. That wouldn’t do at all. 

With a soft crush of lips, she pulled her flush against her, a hand traveling down to Olivia’s waist, her other wandering to the back of her head. 

“Luck be with us,” she said as she pulled back, their breaths mingling in the night air. Olivia’s hand had come to rest on her face, her thumb brushing against her cheek. 

“I’m with you. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

The anger remained, a dangerous undercurrent fueling her actions, but determination steered her back on course. She would not allow the trust placed in her to go to waste. 

“Follow me. The hunters should be gathering by the gatehouse as well. We’ll put an end to this once and for all.”

Flora reappeared at their side as they gathered with others to stage their counterattack, making plans to push the marauders first to the bridge, the two knights, some of the visitors who could arm themselves, several hunters and the troops from the town garrison mobilized for the effort. She conceded to the instantaneous and intense opposition to her plans to ride out alone to parley, the wolf chomping at the bit to deliver retribution. Her claws and teeth were meant for fiends and not human flesh. A more reasonable part of her was grateful when she recognized the sense in her advisors’ words.

As more information rolled in—in great part due to the efforts of the visiting knights and their unique vantage point—the greater her confidence was in bringing the ongoing conflict to a close. The festival might have ended before its time, but she hoped the night would result in their forces securing the border and crushing this persistent thorn in her side once and for all.


	7. Into the Deep Woods

When the dead arrived, the bandits had done much of the work to clear a path. The western gate lay in splintered pieces, battered in not long after the assault began. Buildings outside the walls were still aflame, their bones crumbling into heaps of ash. Instead of extinguishing the shadows, the conflagrations transformed them into untamed beings, their movement frenetic in the flickering light.

Many had cheered as the remaining marauders withdrew back into the mountains, their injured comrades abandoned, some pleading in desperation to be taken. An early victory. A collective sigh of relief that was felt instead of heard. 

The celebration had been both premature and short lived. Her knees suddenly weak, she found a quiet area to lean against a stretch of fence that had been spared from the fires. Among the smoke, she recognized Maribelle immediately as she rode back to her side, the steward in tow. A flash of something like panic flared in her eyes as they met Olivia’s. 

“This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all,” Maribelle had rambled when she dismounted, tugging at the cravat at her throat and loosening it before removing her gloves. The creeping fear in her voice had struck a cold chill in her heart that Olivia hadn’t fully recovered from since. “I have to go. They’re coming from the border mountains and the woods.”

“I don’t understand,” she had responded, voice raspy from the choking warmth and the exertion.

“The forests were mostly clear, but something—someone brought the fiends back or perhaps they are from elsewhere. Stick close to the hunters and mind the skies,” she instructed, glancing upward into the night before leaning into a temporary embrace, clutching at Olivia’s back, her breath a warm caress against her cheek and gone all too soon. “Stay alive.”

A wish and a command. As if she could will it into being by words alone.

“Maribelle?”

“Yes, darling?” she asked, brows knitting as they drew apart, Maribelle’s hand remaining on her shoulder. 

“Stay safe.”

Maribelle nodded and grinned fiercely, the dim light reflecting off her eyes in a way that served as another reminder of that other side, fleet-footed with a hunter’s gaze and long legs to carry her through the night. 

“Don’t worry about me! I can handle any fiends that come my way!” she boasted, composed again as she squeezed Olivia’s shoulder. “I’ll come back for you when it’s over. You have my word.” She furtively kissed her cheek before disentangling herself, an aura of determination following in her wake that served to rally Olivia as well. 

Maribelle left her horse and staves in the steward’s care and under cover of darkness struck out on her own to return to the field, this time under a different mantel than duchess of Themis. 

The steward made a snap decision to call for everyone to fall back. Olivia listened silently as Flora claimed the duchess’s whereabouts were unknown, her hands still clutching the reins of Maribelle’s mount. The knights and several hunters shook their heads, some listening in open mouthed disbelief. The core hunters exchanged glances that held a different weight, but Olivia didn’t have much time to ponder the meaning as the chain of command reorganized itself. Cordelia stepped up to fill the void, already having served as a provisional tactician as she was one of the few with battle experience against an organized force.

The archer led a group who fought from the towers, striking pegasi down mid flight, careful to avoid their own knights, their efforts made all the more challenging as many of their opponents bore the uniforms of Ylisse. Cordelia was grounded shortly after, her pegasus’s movement irregular and jerky as she strained to land in the square. A cleric healed her wounds, but her mount needed to be retired for the night, no other spares available. Olivia stood by, waiting for orders and watched as the knight, battle-tested and serenely capable buried her face in her hands. 

“I could swear it was them,” she murmured before pulling herself back together, her complexion pallid as she wiped her brow. “I think we aren’t the only section of the border targeted. I fear my outpost has already fallen,” she reported grimly.

Rumors of the wolf in the woods sprouted forth among their number, growing like weeds. The hunters were cheered by the news even as retainers and armed guards of visiting nobles expressed their dismay. They claimed the beast would attack them next. That the dead were easier prey, but that humans were surely more to the creature’s liking. Olivia spoke out against the assertions, her face growing hot at the attention until the hunters came to her aid. 

“Leave the wolf to her hunt and we may yet survive this battle,” the blacksmith rumbled as she turned her hammer in her hands, some of the visitors eying its heft. 

Their earlier strategy of pushing the opposing forces to a bridge was redrafted when there were revenants to deal with at their gates. Cordelia assigned one team to hold the western gate—now more gaping maw than wall—and another to meet the Risen at the bridge. The fiends avoided running water, whether that was due to some remaining awareness of the perils or the directions of a nearby puppet master, Olivia didn’t know, but it did little to stop those not on foot. Memories of Tethys’s necromancer speculations returned to the fore.

With one section of their fortifications crumbling, those who could still arm themselves regathered their strength and crossed over into the field, past the broken structures that lined what was once a road. Each building had transformed into a pyre, smoldering into the night, smoke rising in clotted darkness that blocked out the moon in turns. The dead approached in uneven groups, semi-organized like chess pieces on a board placed haphazardly by someone unaware of or uninterested in the rules. Wherever their forces clashed, even that level of order descended into chaos. With no one to direct them beyond their initial orders and the line of vision obscured by the wreckage, she encountered Risen more than she did her allies. 

Olivia had never seen them ride horses and pegasi, fully armored and seemingly retaining the muscle memory of years of sparring yard practice even in death. Unlike human opponents, the dead continued to stagger forward even after arrow wounds or loss of limbs. They laid siege to the town, clumsy gaits propelling them through the gloom. Each motion was more a caricature than anything truly human, attacks sweeping at sour angles or aiming wide as the bodies flung forward and tilted back. That kind of movement she could dodge as long as she didn’t allow them to outnumber her too greatly. Much like the bandits whose axe swings often missed, she danced away and then back in just as Marisa taught her. 

_If you hesitate, you are dead._

The warning repeated endlessly as minutes bled into hours, the passage of time hazy in her mind as she drew upon energy reserves she didn’t know she had. Perhaps through some baffling roundabout path she had returned to the same fate she would have endured had she remained in the mountain village. She didn’t dwell on the thought. 

She spotted the blacksmith through the skeletal remains of a mill up the road, the darkened treeline in sight. Later, she fought alongside Cordelia who held her own with a lance despite her sudden conversion into an infantry soldier. A gash on the knight’s arm had been crudely bandaged, but her movements flashed as sharp and steady as anything Olivia had witnessed from Marisa. After a time, Cordelia left to assist a young mage in his retreat, his tome expended, an arm hanging limply at his side from an unfavorable trade of blows. 

Earlier lightning had arced across the field in deafening cracks and booms alongside howling winds, perhaps he—or Maribelle herself—had been the source. Now all that remained were the sunken husks of buildings, the bonfires reduced to gouts of flame that were further subdued as they ran out of fuel. 

Without declaration nor confirmation of battle’s end the world eventually quieted. She could hear more than the sounds of her heart and her shallow breathing, each exhale scraping past dried lips and a parched throat. Quiet murmurs caught her ear instead of the constant din of fighting and she began to pick her way back to the town, careful to avoid even the prone forms in case they revived or weren’t completely immobilized. Were they clever enough to lay in wait? She would rather not find out.

She crept around the shell of one structure, its belly a bed of hot coals, the embers popping in fitful bursts. The river had helped prevent the flames from making the leap into the woods and scouring more of the land. She turned her back to the forest’s edge, stepping over fallen timber. The newly deceased and dying had drawn out other kinds of dead than Risen—the last dregs of the forest depths keen to scavenge during the battle’s aftermath. She didn’t detect them until it was too late.

The first arrow hit her torso, landing with a wet thud as she pitched forward. The second arced lower and grazed her leg, leaving her gasping on the ground. The world was rimmed in ash as she lay in agony. 

Vaguely she was aware of a commotion, but lacked both the energy and ability to turn to see for herself. Then, the stillness in the air returned and a familiar shadow crossed in front of her.

“I don’t want to die,” she pleaded through the haze of pain, the wolf towering over her, shielding her.

The large head lowered to the side of her face. A cold nose pressed to the exposed skin and the wolf whined, ears falling flat.

“Please,” Olivia gasped, sensing more than seeing Maribelle pull away. 

White-edged eyes searched her own, everything growing dim. The wolf licked her shoulder in apology before she bit down. The teeth sunk into her arm sending her spiraling further, further into nothingness. She might have cried out, limp limbs struggling ineffectually against a bloody embrace. The edges of the world around her blurred as stars burst violently into being and burned themselves into the margins.

_This is it. This is how it ends._

But then the moon over the billowing smoke filled her vision like a ghostly hand extended in greeting. The welcoming glow—so much cooler than that of the flames—ushered her in as all else grew dark. 

~*~

Tremors traveled up her legs and back down to her paws, her flank dotted with feather-fletched arrows. Flora had found them, a bloom of wine red snaking across her side. Groans from bandits echoed into the early morning, their forms littered across the expanse before the village gate. A vicious part of her ached to finish the deed. She had ignored the injured as she fought and relentlessly tore down Risen, violently wrenching them from the air, riders and mounts alike.

The immediacy of another under her protection in danger drew her focus as she panted and whined her wordless distress.

“I’m alright, milady,” Flora consoled her. “Allow me to see to Miss Olivia.”

The hair on her back rose at the reminder of what she had done, her long legs suddenly weak as she moved aside. Olivia murmured nonsense to herself, her skin as warm as a bonfire, beads of sweat gathering on her brow. 

Flora got to work on the arrow wounds first, removing, then stitching and finally healing with the short staff she had brought with her from the north. As her hands moved to the shoulder, she paused, recoiling before slowly removing a knife from a belt at her hip and cutting away fabric. She worked silently, brow furrowed in concentration or dismay—Maribelle sensed it was more the latter.

“You should head home, milady. Others will arrive to finish cleaning up the mess. I will… keep you apprised of our guest’s condition. I’m certain you did what was necessary.”

Giving further credence to Flora’s words, she sensed the approach of those who didn’t reek of the mountain hole the bandits crawled from nor the fetid stench of rotting flesh. She turned sharply to head towards the manor. For better or worse, she had done all she could and the rest was in Flora’s capable hands, the steward’s parting words still captured despite having already departed.

“I will find you at the estate in the usual place, milady. Please take care.”

She cleansed herself in a stream, far enough away from the road and town to avoid any human interaction before slinking back through the undergrowth towards the estate until she found an animal trail where the trees grew further apart. The thought that her run home was more retreat than return nipped at her feet and chased laps around her weary mind even as she sunk down on top of dew-flecked grass to await the steward. The sounds of intermittent activity further disturbed any shreds of rest she might have found in the interim, the wolf only vaguely caring to assign the noises to people and things. Flora eventually reunited with her outside the altered window during the first light of dawn and performed the same procedures she had with Olivia earlier. 

As Maribelle lay panting on the ground after the shift, her first lungful of air was put towards inquiring after the dancer. 

“It’s too early to tell,” Flora replied, bowing her head. “She’s running a fever, but you had as well.”

“She asked it of me… I… couldn’t let her…” she said, voice hitching as she choked back sobs.

She lifted herself up on aching arms and cleared her cheeks of tears, more coming to take their place. Flora averted her gaze as she gathered her supplies. 

“I understand. I’ll keep an eye on her while you rest.”

Breathing deeply, she calmed enough to speak in a slow, even voice. 

“The town?” 

“The fires have mostly been put out. You may wish to travel there in the afternoon, if you are well enough to do so. Your hunters held the line at the bridge, sparing many. Miss Olivia was a part of another force at the western gate. Clerics are tending to the wounded, but I think showing your face would be wise. Many were worried after you disappeared. Some have inquired after the wolf as well.” A thoughtful look crossed her face a moment and then was gone. “I believe several have made the connection between the wolf’s appearance and your departure though they didn’t say as much outright.”

She didn’t have time to deal with _that_ insinuation, so she focused on the previous concern instead.

“Wake me before midday. I’ll spend the afternoon in town.”

She rubbed at her face, a coarse motion driven by anxious need. 

_The blood is gone. It’s gone._

“Understood.”

Flora handed her a robe, neither meeting the other’s eyes. She turned away to look to the horizon instead.

The smoke still rose past the tree line into the morning light. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and began to take her leave, simultaneously exhausted and on tenterhooks as she worried over several things at once. 

“Is Olivia in her rooms? I might visit myself. Just for a moment and then I can rest,” she said quietly.

“Yes, milady,” Flora responded, equally subdued.

She pursed her lips and nodded, turning towards the manor house and making the short trek to the guest quarters, the halls empty and silent. The thought of acquiring a mend staff came to her, but the wolf would do more for recovery than even most healing magic could. The echoes of battle still hung in the air, hounding her. She had made a choice—several actually—and as with anything, choices bore consequences. Wearing the form of the wolf, deciding to fight to her strengths. The sharp, metallic tang of on blood her tongue remained. Distinctly human. Nothing like the wings of a pegasus, several days rotting under the desert sun, sewn together by magic and ill-intent. She shuddered as she stopped in front of the guest room door, breathing deeply again and pressing forward. 

The room was dark, curtains drawn shut. Her eyes adjusted and she paused to listen only to hear Olivia’s uneven breathing. She was no longer mumbling, her bundled form shivering under a sheet. Maribelle sat on the edge of the bed and took Olivia’s hand in her own, the other arm bandaged, but already bruising in an ugly way.

“You could have returned to safety. I wouldn’t have thought any less of you. None of this is your quarrel,” she said, clearing her bangs from her face and lightly pressing the back of her hand to Olivia’s forehead. _Too warm._ “Flora says you helped hold the gate. I’m sorry. I arrived too late.”

Olivia didn’t smell like the wolf she had slain in the pasture all those months ago, but it was early yet. She silenced those thoughts before they could sink their teeth in, debilitating her. Too many responsibilities awaited her attention for her to fall apart just yet.

She stayed by her side until she could no longer keep her eyes open and withdrew to her own quarters to recover enough to take on everything that needed attending to in town.

~*~

Fog obscured the top of the lowest peaks, gauzy tendrils rolling down over the houses, blanketing treetops. She rode into town without attendants, many of the staff already assisting with relief efforts. It had rained sometime while she was asleep, too little too late for any buildings the bandits had targeted. 

A flash of crimson drew her attention to the knight in the square. She was talking with a cleric in front of a row of repurposed festival tents. Flora had notified various parties of her status despite getting separated in the fighting and disappearing partway through the night. The explanation they came up with had a tenuous connection to reality at best, but Flora undoubtedly delivered the news with a straight face. Selfishly, Maribelle had requested she stay with Olivia and to send for her should there be any sudden changes. She grit her teeth at the thought, but ignoring her commitment to Themis wasn’t an option and she wasn’t the only one to suffer at the hands of an unnamed foe.

As she approached, the knight reacted belatedly to her arrival, bowing slowly after she dismounted. Maribelle briefly wondered if she had slept at all as she took in the gaunt features and shadowed gaze. 

“Welcome back, milady,” she said quietly as if unwilling to disturb the hush that had settled over the town. 

“I’ve come to assist wherever I might be needed,” she responded, equally somber. 

Cordelia nodded, never quite meeting her gaze. She turned, gesturing for her to follow. 

“We’ve set up a healing tent as you can see,” she said, pausing as Maribelle collected an armful of staves and secured her horse nearby.

“I’ve heard your mount might need attending to as well and can do so myself, if that is still the case,” Maribelle offered. They hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, but none of that seemed to matter anymore.

The knights mouth twisted into a grim frown. 

“I’ve done my best, but it will be some time before we can fly. Anyway, there are plenty of townspeople that need healing first.” 

It was better to stay busy, to have some task on which to focus her full attention and she consoled herself with the prospect.

“And I intend to stay for as long as it takes,” she asserted. A spark of surprise lit the knight’s eyes, but it faded into dullness shortly after. 

Cordelia nodded again, the same delayed motions as before.

Maribelle shifted the staves in her arms.

“You have my gratitude for all you have done. Please do take some time to rest,” she said.

It wasn’t enough. Her lips twitched as she searched for some more appropriate words of comfort.

“Yes, of course,” Cordelia murmured, turning away before Maribelle could think of another more fitting response. “I’ll let the head cleric know you’ve just arrived.”

The makeshift healing tents were cruder than she would have liked, the festival decorations garish paired with a steady atmosphere of barely checked misery. She braced herself for a difficult afternoon. As she had been informed, some of the manor staff were present, assisting according to their skills. She also encountered several of the hunters laid up from injuries and she lightly scolded one of the men as he spoke to her, his voice hoarse from rallying his teammates. 

The knight remained out of sight for most of the afternoon. She hoped it meant she had taken her advice and found some time to sleep. Their paths crossed when day rolled into evening as she sat with the blacksmith over dinner. Food was provided by both the estate and the inn despite the fact that the building itself had received damage from a stray enemy spell, part of the roof over the main room open to the stars. No word had come from Flora and she took no news to be good news as anxious as she was to return.

As the blacksmith took her leave to return to help with some heavy lifting, the knight approached to take her place. She hovered by the table a moment before speaking.

“There is something I want to ask you,” she said, but instead of continuing, she sat, her arms resting on her thighs and fingers lacing together loosely. Staring at nothing, her brows knit and she brought up a hand to rub her chin. “I think I know the answer, but am not certain… well, with all the smoke—it was night, after all. But,” she paused and licked her lips before directing her gaze to Maribelle, “where did you go when the Risen arrived?”

She hadn’t accounted for any of the living having a bird’s eye view and the provided explanation suddenly felt even more insufficient. Mouth suddenly dry, she drank from a mug, the contents leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

“Does it matter? Know that I was assisting in my own way.”

The knight’s frown deepened.

“With abilities like yours, don’t you think you owe your time elsewhere? Themis is one part of a whole.”

So, she knew as well. No palatable alternative except to hold her ground.

“You know what happened here and in Ylisstol, I assume. The Exalt could do nothing to prevent it and once again over a year later, I’m left to pick up the pieces. Besides, I’m not entirely certain they would even accept a wolf into the Shepherd’s flock.”

Cordelia squinted, staring off into the bustle of the main room from their corner table.

“I’ve sent my colleague to Ylisstol to report on the attack,” she said, pausing. 

Maribelle crossed her arms, waiting for further comment.

“She will relay only what we are certain to have seen for ourselves. I expect there to be similar news being sent to the capital from other locations. The Risen… they were my sisters,” she said, voice cracking as she gasped, the sound ending in a high note. Her lips quivered as they drew down again.

“I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a time, before Cordelia released a wavering sigh, shook her head and turned to her.

“Is Miss Olivia alright? I haven’t seen her since sometime last night. She fought well.”

She would have preferred any other topic. Even the wolf.

“No, I—she was injured. We’ve done all that we can. Flora—the ah steward. You’ve met. I’ve asked her to watch over her while I am away.”

“I think it would be alright if you rested for the evening as well.”

“Perhaps soon,” she said, “As promised, I would like to tend to your mount. The next shift of healers has taken over and in either case, they know how to reach me.” 

“As you wish, milady.”

They hobbled over to the stables and she was pleased to see Cordelia perk up at the sight of her pegasus even as she gave it a restrained greeting, possibly still unwilling to lower her guard completely in Maribelle’s presence. 

Worry settled over her anew during the trek home after doing a final lap of the healing tent, the clerics and patients alike sending her packing. She would be back to town daily for the foreseeable future. 

~*~

Olivia was listless for days, uninterested in eating and often too distracted to hold a clear conversation when Maribelle sat with her, the rest of her time spent in town or sleeping, sometimes drowsing in one of the guest room chairs despite the disapproving looks Flora would give her before they melted into concern. The steward had maintained a false optimism the first few days, but that faded as the fever never broke. Maribelle asked if it had been the same for herself, Flora pursing her lips in response.

“I think the full moon came more quickly that time in order to force the change. I don’t know if that means anything though, milady.”

When Olivia did speak, it was mostly circular, feverish ramblings about monsters and magic, seemingly crossing her stories with reality. For the first time since she lost her father, Maribelle prayed to Naga and left blessings at the altar of the estate’s shrine. 

She hired a woodsman to fell a deer, unwilling to leave the grounds herself for more than an afternoon, but bowls of broth were all Olivia would eat. Some evenings she was more lucid and Maribelle told her more stories of Ylisstol and Themis, uncertain if the fairytales would inspire an even further disconnect. She was unable to capture the same cadence Olivia used, her words devoid of the glamour. 

“It’s alright,” Olivia murmured one evening, loosely holding Maribelle’s hand. She slowly turned her head to look at the window. “I want to go out.” 

“But there’s a chill in the air and you aren’t well, darling. I’ll take you out to the gardens in the morning.”

She would follow through with the request, if the sun didn’t shine too brightly. They would find a shadowy spot where the bushes still held onto their leaves. 

“I have to, Maribelle. I have to,” she insisted, clutching at her arm with a strength she hadn’t anticipated, her skin warm to the touch.

The full moon wasn’t for weeks, but she could see the thin pale light as it entered through the window just as well as Olivia. 

“Very well. Allow me to guide you then.” 

She attempted to lift her up, but Olivia shook her head, leaning against her instead. They walked to the forest’s edge together, the sky still a hazy blue. A wind pulled at their hair, both equally unfazed by the cold air. She shook her head when Flora traced their steps. 

“We’ll return in the morning,” she whispered, eying Olivia askance as she looked upward, transfixed by the partial moon in the sky. 

With no recollection of her first shift nearly a year ago, her mind couldn’t help but pay special attention as she slipped from one form to something larger, more enduring than her once frail self, many of the mysteries still veiled behind lack of reliable sources. She had learned to change as smooth as rain, leaping fluidly into fur and claws and long teeth meant for tearing. The same was not true for her companion. When the transformation came, she stood by, ears flat at the sound of pained crying and labored breathing. 

_It will get easier._

She would tell her everything she knew. All the secrets gleaned from hard earned experience and dusty old scrolls. Thoughts of other things quickly took over as the wolf kept guard, listening, waiting, the forest still as the moon coaxed out its hunters. 

When it was over, a dark gray wolf stood in Olivia’s place, panting from exertion, golden eyes dazed until they focused on her. She paced over to the new wolf with delicate steps, allowing her space to make the next move.

Olivia was shaky on her new legs and Maribelle wondered if it had been the same for her or if she truly had torn off directly into the woods like Flora had said, her memories of the time lost in the confusing unfamiliarity of it all.

After a friendly greeting of bumped noses and nuzzles, she trotted further into the forest, turning once to look for her companion who stood still a moment before leaping towards her in long, graceful strides. They raced through woods and field, and she showed the new wolf how to avoid traps and her preferred methods for tackling the monsters that lurked in the night. For the first time she didn’t sing alone, the boundless night sky full of possibility rather than the cold, empty ache of loneliness.

They returned to the estate in the early hours just before dawn, shifting outside her usual entry point. Maribelle slid her fingers into a gap and pulled the pane open from the outside. The worry had faded and all she knew was elation over her newfound partner. The giddiness didn’t subside even as they dressed and she chattered away, smiling brightly.

“You must be famished, darling. We shall feast this morning. After all, it’s dinner time for us. I’ll have the cook prepare the meat from the cellar. One of everything! I craved it after my first time.”

“Maribelle—“

“Yes, my dear? Oh! How are your feet and erm—hands? My paws ached terribly to start, but soaking them should do the trick! There are so many things I wish I had known, but—“

“Maribelle, _please_.”

“My apologies! This must all be incredibly overwhelming. What is it you want to say?” 

Olivia leaned in and brushed her lips against her cheek.

“I think… I need to sleep,” she said, a fluttering in Maribelle’s heart soaring at the gesture before plummeting abruptly as she took in the words.

“Oh. Oh, of course! Yes, rest! How sensible. You needn’t even leave the room. I will have a tray brought to you and an attendant stationed at your door.”

“Thank you. I’m just so tired,” she said, the last words nearly lost in a yawn as her eyelids drooped and she staggered to the bed.

“I’ll see you later then,” Maribelle murmured, fixing her hair as she looked away.

“Mmh Maribelle?” she mumbled.

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, not entirely certain what she was thanking her for.

Olivia stretched fully before curling up, her hair as unruly as Maribelle’s had been after her first run. 

_Oh dear._

Leaving the room and not looking back seemed the most reasonable course of action, but she remained rooted a few moments longer before forcing herself to turn away. 

~*~

For once, Olivia summoned her or Flora made the decision to send for her. She hadn’t thought to ask when she rushed back from town, promising to return some time during the afternoon. She had said her farewells to Cordelia who departed well-supplied for a solo-flight back to Ylisstol. The parting had been somewhat stilted on both sides before she managed to recover, offering the knight housing should she and her companions ever pass through Themis.

When she made it back to the grounds, she asked after Olivia’s whereabouts before she even dismounted, the staff member who took her horse stammering before Flora appeared and directed her. 

Still wearing her riding clothes she approached the terrace where Olivia sat, unsurprised to find she had sensed her, offering a timid wave as soon as she rounded a bend. She had slept for nearly two days, her skin transformed from a sickly pallor to the same warm tone Maribelle had come to admire. The relief upon seeing her looking in such good health washed over her leaving her knees weak. A part of her hadn’t stop worrying even after the first night in the woods together, fearing the possibility something might still go awry. Olivia stood to greet her, smiling, albeit self-consciously and Maribelle resisted the urge to throw herself into Olivia’s arms, hands firmly clenched at her side before that all went out the window as Olivia leaned into a bow. 

“Don’t be silly! Allow me greet you properly! Oh! I was so worried,” she blubbered despite herself, tossing her arms around her. She pulled away with a sniffle, patting her sides before she located a handkerchief. Olivia’s smile softened as Maribelle shot her a wry grin of her own as she dabbed at leaky eyes. 

“Hello, Maribelle,” she greeted her warmly.

“Hello, darling. I’m so relieved to find you well. I imagine you have questions or perhaps observations you might wish to discuss. My knowledge is at your disposal—that is, I would like to help you in any way that I’m able to do so. My first few months were something of a trial and I would not wish that on anyone else,” she said with enough clarity to her words despite her continued sniveling. 

Olivia pushed her hair out of her face and bit her lip. Maribelle considered whether she needed to prompt her further before their eyes met and she spoke in a rush of nervous excitement.

“I would like to run again, if that’s alright. And maybe it’s strange to want to, but I feel—I feel like I need to stretch and that is the only way to do so,” she said, bringing her hands up to her face in an attempt to hide her increasing distress. “I don’t expect you to spend the time. I’m sorry! I’m sure this is an inconvenience for you. If I had just listened—“

“No!” she interrupted, Olivia’s shoulders raising with a jolt. She reached out a hand, Olivia uncovering her face in response as she allowed Maribelle to link their fingers, her other hand following suit. “It’s not an inconvenience at all. If anything, I can only hope you can forgive me. If anyone has caused an inconvenience, I have. It was dangerous—“

“I asked it of you,” Olivia interrupted, surprisingly stern. “I’m here thanks to you.”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, Olivia unflinching despite Maribelle’s misgivings. 

“I don’t know if I can accept that perspective quite yet, but I meant what I said,” she responded, “If you ever have need of anything I can assist you with, please do not hesitate to seek me out.”

_I don’t think I could refuse you anything if you could bring yourself to request it of me._

“Maribelle…” Olivia said, her brows knitting. An uncomfortable level of sentimentality swelled within her at the sight, so she promptly changed the subject.

“Look at us, tripping over ourselves. If you would like, I can tell you what I know so far and what I’m still puzzling over,” she offered. “I’m very curious if your experiences are similar. Then I can show you the books and all the very many places they are wrong.”

She was only partially jesting when it came to the latter, but perhaps some humor could be found in the misconceptions she worried over during those initial months. There were a disturbing number of accounts that suggested the wolves were either part demon or susceptible to fiendish desires. Olivia had only reconfirmed her own suspicions that the shepherd killer had been disturbed beyond her ability to save or communicate with in the end—that they had existed as an outlier instead of some eventual fate. Seeing another wolf for herself had her reevaluating her own perceptions. She had always called it a curse, an affliction. How could she say the same of Olivia who had kept pace with her and called to her so sweetly? 

“It’s all so new,” Olivia admitted. “Whatever you think is best.”

“Tomorrow then? It’s better to be somewhat cautious. No sense wearing yourself out again and I do have obligations in town,” she said with some regret. If she could, she would sit in the moonlight with Olivia and watch the lawns like they had weeks ago, trading stories in the dark. 

“Do you need help? Flora told me you have been busy. I’d like to do my part as well. And I’ve spent more than enough time in bed,” she said, punctuating her sentence with a yawn.

“If you’re up to it, darling, I’d love the company,” she said, all the more pleased as Olivia nodded her assent.

~*~

Their next run in the woods, they dashed through streams and up the hills into the mountains. Just as the bandits threat had faded, the monsters remained quiet as well. Instead they sang and chased until the sun rose in the east, calling them home. Smoothly shedding fur and claw outside the propped window, they climbed out of the morning chill and into the room every bit as euphoric as the first time.

They turned away from each other to gather robes and dressing gowns. Her smile stretched wide despite the sudden self-conscious covering of scar-crossed skin. She would do her best to prevent the same injuries—many from her initial month’s mistakes and lessons learned—from befalling Olivia. 

The wolves had little concept of personal space, standing flush against the other or lying on the forest floor in close contact. The draw lasted long after changing back and like before, Olivia leaned in to kiss her cheek. This time Maribelle held her close, rose-colored locks between her fingers as she stroked her hair. 

“Allow me to stay, would you?” she asked, a part of her vaguely aware at how odd the question was in this space that had been hers alone for many months. She pressed her lips against the back of a hand, turning it to kiss the wrist and noting the resultant shivers. 

“I would like that,” Olivia whispered, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against Maribelle’s. 

“It’s not too much?” she asked. _Or too soon?_ Olivia shook her head and smiled, strands of hair brushing Maribelle’s face as she raised a hand to Olivia’s cheek. Olivia turned to kiss her palm, her own hand covering Maribelle’s.

“Whatever you would like. I won’t fall asleep like last time,” she said with a laugh that was somewhere in between amused and nervous before glancing to the side. Olivia’s skin grew even warmer against her fingers that had wandered upwards and began tucking wavy locks behind her ears to better see her face. “I feel safe with you.”

Olivia’s answer was all she could hope for as she pulled her close, allowing herself to live in the moment for a time. 

And when Olivia removed her last garment and they touched, skin against skin, Olivia smiled and said they were the same. 

“We are,” Maribelle whispered after a moment, kissing the top of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thank you for reading.<3


	8. Follow You, Follow Me

When Flora had informed her there was a guest, she had felt some trepidation over the prospect, particularly after learning who it was. She had hoped to prolong the hazy contentedness of the past several weeks just a bit longer before making serious considerations for future plans.  
Neither Olivia nor herself had pressed the issue despite receiving a rather cryptic missive from the dance troupe that promised they would return soon after one last unforeseen ‘gig’. 

Cordelia was waiting for her in the study, appearing nearly as ill-rested as she had the day after the attack on the town, but in better spirits if the alert shine in her eyes was anything to go by. Much like the day of the festival, the weather held up even if the air was crisper, the trees having lost their leaves in the interim. The whole effect left her with a sensation of having already experienced the encounter before, but from what Flora had surmised and the little Cordelia had divulged, this time promised to be more pleasant affair for all parties involved.

“Welcome back to Themis, Miss Cordelia. It’s as if you were here only yesterday. What news do you bring from Ylisstol?”

In reality it had been weeks, but all the scraps of information she had received had been varying levels of alarming. The assassination attempt, a declaration of war, claims that the Exalt had been forcibly taken to Plegia, the latter of which the knight herself had confirmed along with the news that Emmeryn had been recovered after several standoffs on Plegian sands alongside a myriad of allies from home and abroad. 

“I’ve come on behalf of the Exalt to request Themis house the army before we continue on to the capital.” 

It wasn’t so much a request as it was notice of their impending arrival, but the town itself was in much better shape than it had been when Cordelia left and it was past time the full guest wing be aired out for company. 

“We would be honored to host her Grace. Would you happen to have an idea how long it will be until they arrive?”

“They are less than half a day’s journey.” 

Less time than she would prefer, but the knight, still solemnly dressed in her flight armor, was clearly in need of some rest and little seemed impossible as of late, her mood still buoyed by Olivia’s steady companionship. 

“I see. Well, make yourself at home. Your rooms will be prepared shortly—“

“That won’t be necessary. My tent will arrive with the convoy—“

She scoffed at Cordelia’s attempt to decline her offer, forging ahead before the knight could think of some other excuse to sleep on what was assuredly standard issue bedding.

“Nonsense! I had promised to host you during your next visit to Themis—though I doubt either of us believed it would be so soon—and I intend to follow through! In fact, it would be utterly shameful of me to go back on my word.”

Cordelia didn’t appear convinced, but a little indecision wouldn’t get in the way once Maribelle had made up her mind. 

~*~

The manor which once sat quiet bustled with activity as the Shepherds created a temporary base on its grounds and in town. The largest guest quarters were reserved for the Exalt and her lady captain, both recovering from serious injuries. Despite the knight’s reservations, Maribelle had convinced Cordelia to take a room in the end. The rest of the spaces were arranged for whichever guests the army chose to assign to them, the steward acting as a go-between on operational matters, leaving Maribelle to offer more formal greetings to the commander who was accompanied by a stony-faced retainer and the army’s tactician. 

Olivia had appeared rather lost in the presence of so many new arrivals and as soon as she extricated herself from the company of her royal guest and his inner circle, she struck out to where she had left her, an open flat area near the forest where several soldiers had begun constructing the strategy tent, one of the first structures to be erected in the camp. 

In no uncertain terms, she drove off a couple of the oafs who had paused in their task in order to strike up a conversation. Even at a distance she could see Olivia eying the treeline as though it were an acceptable escape route. She recognized one individual as an associate of the prince. He had only ever hung around the training yards and had been equally responsible for the destruction of property as Chrom. The other was a rather disreputable looking fellow who appeared as though he spent most of his time skulking in alleyways waiting for purses to cut. 

“My apologies, darling,” she said, taking her by the hand as they walked back to the main building, “I fear things will be somewhat hectic for the next several days, but if any ruffians so much as—“

Before she could finish her thought, they were both caught off guard as a force collided with her back and nearly bowled her over. Olivia held fast to her hand, her other arm reaching out to steady her and both turned wide-eyed gazes to the attacker, bewildered by the sudden intrusion.

“Maribelle!” Lissa cried, pulling her close as if it had been weeks instead of more than a year since their last meeting. “I’ve missed you!”

“Your highness!”

“Please, Maribelle. No titles! I haven’t seen you in ages and that’s all you can say?” she shouted over the clamor.

“Well, I-“

The princess pulled back, hands gripping Maribelle’s arms.

“Heeey, there’s something _different_ about you.”

“It’s been some time since—“

“Aha! You changed your hair. I like it!” she crowed, tossing her arms around Maribelle’s shoulders once again, rushing head first into the conversation as Maribelle spluttered half-formed responses. “And look at me! Ta-da! Do I look good or do I look _great_?!”

She gestured from her cleric’s boots to her tiara, a hand axe at her waist and a staff peeking out from underneath the traveling cloak draped over her shoulders. 

“You look magnificent, darling.”

It was then that it truly hit her how much of the world continued on in her absence. Not only was Lissa bright and glowing before her, but she had grown out her hair since she had last seen her, a thick braid resting over her shoulder that appeared to have been put together in a hasty manner and was probably of her own doing—she never had the patience for attendants. 

“Wait until you see my _sister_!” Lissa exclaimed before leaning close and whispering in Maribelle’s ear.

“An engagement?” Maribelle murmured.

“Can you believe it? I think we’re all punch drunk from the last few weeks, but I’m happy for them. She’s still in rough shape, but they’re both doing better by the day. I just checked in on them myself,” she said, her expression dimming slightly at the last several admissions, the strain from whatever ordeals she had endured chipping away at her cheerful veneer, “I’m so glad to be back in Ylisse.”

She met Lissa’s tired expression with sympathy, patting her shoulder.

“Should you need any assistance, my staves are at your service. Perhaps we can catch up later, but first, I’d like to introduce you to Olivia.” Maribelle said, pulling gently on her hand. “Olivia, this is Lissa, princess of Ylisse—“

Olivia’s shoulders tensed, but she leaned into a graceful bow. Lissa waved it off as was almost expected. She had never been one for formality, only the Exalt herself taking proper conduct seriously. 

“Yes, but you can just call me Lissa! The whole army practically does.”

“And Olivia is—,” Maribelle started.

“You’re from Tethys’ troupe!” Lissa interrupted with a beaming smile. “She talked about you! I’m so glad you’ve been keeping Maribelle company. I had wanted to visit Themis, but after joining the Shepherds, I’ve been on the move for months. They needed all the help they could get though—oh, there’s no hard feelings, ok?” 

Lissa fixed her with that same terrible, creased brow and imploring expression she had once used to induce Maribelle to stand guard as her younger self plucked frogs from ponds on the rare excursion. A simple yes or no wouldn’t suffice. 

“I did miss you,” she finally said, shoulders sloping slightly at the admission. A gentle pressure from Olivia’s hand reassured her as she straightened again. 

“I’m still really sorry about everything,” Lissa responded more soberly though she grinned again when she saw their still linked hands despite her whirlwind entrance. She turned to Olivia whose grip on Maribelle tightened reflexively. “Would it be ok if I borrowed her for a bit?”

“Of course,” she murmured as she stepped away, the touch lingering longer than necessary, but if Lissa wanted to pry, Maribelle would allow it. All things considered, it was the easiest revelation to make.

“I’m sure Tethys is looking for you! I’m glad we got to meet, Olivia!” Lissa said, all smiles again as Olivia’s face colored in an endearing way.

“Likewise, your highness,” she said, taking her leave with another bow.

“Find me after you reunite with your family,” Maribelle said as Olivia smiled before turning and blending into the crowd of soldiers and clerics, horses and knights.

Lissa was kind enough to wait until Olivia was mostly out of sight before she wrapped an arm around her own and yanked her close with a wicked smile.

“So, spill the beans, Maribelle! And no dodging!” she said, wagging a preemptive accusatory finger at her.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, my dear. You might be surprised how much has happened since we last conversed,” she said with a laugh as she allowed herself to lean just a bit into the armhold. “Isn’t she darling though?”

She sighed in an embarrassingly besotted way, Lissa cackling gleefully in response. It almost felt like old times. 

~*~

Her heart stopped for a beat when the princess casually mentioned Tethys’s name. She hadn’t spotted the dancers when she waited for Maribelle’s return earlier, but the long caravan of soldiers and supply carts was still kicking up dust on the road (and trampling the lawns in a way that had set off both the steward and head groundskeeper when the army first arrived). 

The various noises and scents had inundated her senses, leaving her visibly shocked enough to draw the attention of those men from the army. Maribelle had returned shortly after, brusquely sending them on their way with a few sharp words. Olivia would have to ask her how she learned to parse all the sounds and smells in settings such as this. 

Each day still brought new discoveries where that latest development was concerned, many of which Maribelle warned her about, but experiencing things herself was always an adjustment. When the troupe was away, time had often seemed to move so slowly, but all of a sudden so many things were converging all at once. 

As she joined the flow of foot traffic, the rest of Maribelle’s conversation with the princess was lost on Olivia. She had only wandered for a few minutes when a familiar perfume hit her newly sensitive nose and arms swept her into a warm hug.

“Olivia! Thank the saints! You’re alright!” Tethys cried with a laugh of relief. “I couldn’t forgive myself for leaving you stranded here. We tried to return, but we got caught up in the war. You know I don’t care to get involved, but even Jehanna had grown wary of trouble in Plegia! I tried to send letters, but was never sure if they made it. We only received one response before we left. Oh, but I’m so glad to see you!” 

Olivia was shocked to hear the unevenness in Tethys’ voice as she pulled her close again. Without warning, another body joined the embrace, arms wrapping around them both.

“Olivia! You’re here!” Lene shouted, squeezing them until they gasped. “Marisa taught me how to swordfight, too! Let me show you tomorrow!” 

“That’s enough, Lene,” Marisa said as she joined them, fixing Lene with a dour expression that resulted in burbling laughter as she let them go. 

“Until later, ‘Liv!” she said with a wave and a wink before weaving her way through the crowd presumably to cause trouble elsewhere.

“I didn’t know you were traveling with the Exalt’s army,” Olivia said. 

“It wasn’t a sure thing,” Marisa explained with a shrug. “And we were warned messages wouldn’t necessarily make it through.”

“They told us that Themis had suffered an attack,” Tethys said. “We feared the worst, but I’m so happy to find you safe and sound.”

She blinked at that. Tethys wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. 

“It was a difficult fight,” she admitted. “First the brigands and then those Risen they have here, but we fended them off in the end. I’ve been helping with the monster hunts. The duchess organizes them herself.” 

“So, you became a true hunter in the tradition of your village. We’ll have so many stories to exchange on the road!” Tethys said. She turned to her partner and cracked a grin. “Traveling with the Exalt and her entourage was quite the experience, wasn’t it, dear?”

“Hmm.”

Tethys chuckled as she always did in the face of Marisa’s dispassionate responses before leaning in close to Olivia and whispering loudly enough that her partner was clearly an intended audience.

“They call her the Crimson Flash now! The men are all terrified of her!”

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at Marisa’s lips.

“It’s all just stories,” Marisa demurred, crossing her arms. “Besides, we’re not as young as we used to be.”

“Oh, hush. We held our own rather well. So, what have you been up to while we’ve been away?” Tethys asked before moving closer, eyes darting to the side, looking for unwanted listeners before whispering her next question. “You were treated well?”

“Oh yes. It was difficult to adjust to, at first. Themis was so… quiet in comparison to the troupe.”

“Sounds peaceful,” Marisa said wistfully as Tethys rolled her eyes.

Olivia hadn’t fully considered how much she wanted to reveal about what had happened while they were separated.

“It was for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Tethys asked, arching a brow as she leaned against Marisa. 

“Well, there are monsters here as well and the attack on the town several weeks ago.”

Tethys nodded in understanding.

“So, not so quiet all the time”, Marisa murmured. “We saw plenty of unrest on our journey.”

A lull descended, Tethys placing an arm on her shoulder as they watched the movement of camp. She thought to ask after the rest of the troupe, but Tethys spoke up once again.

“Did you know the Exalt is friends with the taguel?” she asked, “They’re here in camp with us! An entire band of them—err a warren is what they call their groups. And the Feroxi khans as well!”

“I hadn’t heard,” Olivia admitted, wondering if Maribelle would know more.

They continued walking and talking, meeting up with Lalum and Lene along the way. Lalum glowered as they discussed their stay in Jehanna.

“We weren’t even there a month and then we had to pack our bags again,” she complained before looking over at Olivia with a plaintive expression, “Not that I didn’t miss you, Olivia! I just thought Marisa was going to get you herself. We’ve been marching for weeks and weeks and had to fight horrid monsters along the way.” 

Marisa shushed her as they came to a halt. Further ahead a ring of onlookers had begun to circle what appeared to be an altercation.

“A fight?” Tethys asked with a frown.

Olivia listened carefully before breaking from her group to follow the sound of one voice that rang out clearly amongst the others. She pushed past several bystanders to find Maribelle and the princess in a standoff against two of the taguel Tethys had mentioned. Both parties seemed to have stumbled into the other resulting in an immediate and untimely antagonism.

The youngest taguel leveled her gaze at Maribelle. 

“I do not fear you, _wolf_ ,” she snapped, the fur around her neck raised as she lowered her stance.

“Beg pardon? I don’t have the slightest idea what you could possibly mean,” Maribelle retorted with a dismissive gesture, her tone infused with an undercurrent of warning. “Perhaps it would be best if you run off to your friends. Do not forget you are a guest on my lands.”

“A liar and a coward then!” the other yelled from behind his companion.

Olivia pushed her way into the ring, vaguely aware of Marisa’s inquiring call from further back in the crowd.

“Please stop this. No one needs to fight,” she said, stepping up to Maribelle and placing a hand on her arm. 

Her appearance didn’t have the intended effect, however, instead serving to further antagonize the young taguel pair.

“There are two of you? Of course. Wolves run in packs. Who else carries your stench?”

“Maribelle?” the princess asked, Maribelle’s face draining of color.

“I-I…” she stammered, a hand reaching for Olivia’s arm, searching for support. 

Tethys wound her way past the crowd and stood next to Olivia.

“Oh, calm down, everyone! Look at stars! The moon! What a beautiful evening it is! I think it’s time for a dance,” she shouted, emphasizing her words with the sharp clap she had used many a time in their own camp. She whistled to two of the dancers, both clapping a rhythm as she pulled the first young taguel into a folk dance. Lalum and Lene sang the words, their voices intertwining for the chorus. 

_Life goes on, like the river that seeks the sea_

Someone in the crowd let out a whoop of encouragement, another onlooker whistling in agreement as many chose to forget the stand off in favor of merrymaking. Olivia tugged at Maribelle’s hand and she nodded as they made their exit, losing Lissa in the chaos as well.

An older taguel found them at the edge of the crowd, the the fur at the base of her ears graying and a scar running across a cheek. 

“Apologies over the young ones,” she said, “We have no quarrel with you tonight, but we teach our kits to guard themselves against predators. Some are… overzealous in their application of our teachings.”

Olivia’s gaze darted to the side in time to see Maribelle’s jaw clench. 

“This I understand, but it is not the place of strangers to reveal our secrets,” Maribelle said sternly before calming. “Allow me to speak to the Exalt myself when she is well enough to take an audience.”

“Very well. I trust the Exalt’s judgment in such matters.”

“I would appreciate if this is kept quiet. Much like yourself, my hearing is exceptional and I would rather not have to deal with exaggerated rumors during a delicate time such as this.”

“I agree. I will take care of my own people.”

“Much obliged, Miss..?”

“Panne,” she said, scrutinizing them both. “You are not what I was expecting when the humans said we would be staying with a duchess.” 

Maribelle frowned at that, but before she could continue, Flora appeared, clearly in need of her attention. 

“Well, this chat was enlightening, but I must take my leave. Enjoy your stay, Miss Panne. Perhaps we will talk again some other time.”

Panne gave a sharp nod before heading back to the gathering. As Maribelle reconvened with with the steward, Olivia observed the taguel take both of the youngsters who had been involved in the confrontation by their arms, their heads ducking mournfully in response, both aware of the impending reprimand over their behavior.

A movement to her side caught her attention as Maribelle beckoned her closer and the three of them made their way back to the front walk. After all the excitement, Olivia was relieved to find that it was less crowded than some other areas of the grounds, most of the carts and tents situated either closer to town or on the previously empty back lawns.

“I fear I am not prepared to host such a large contingent,” Maribelle admitted once Flora had disappeared back into the front entrance. “The guest wing hasn’t been in use in its entirety since… well, for years now. Some of the knights are rooming in town, but the inn received heavy damages during the attack and hasn’t fully recovered,” she said with a grimace.

“I can stay with my troupe,” Olivia offered. “It won’t take much to clear out my rooms.”

Maribelle startled at the suggestion, brow wrinkling in alarm. They hadn’t consolidated their belongings despite spending much of their sleeping hours in that spare room Maribelle had used when she returned from her night hunts. 

“I intended to offer Miss Tethys and Miss Marisa a room. They are your guardians, after all. I’m told their assistance in the last battle was crucial. It’s a miracle the Exalt returned to us alive.” She paused, her brows knitting. “But if you truly wish to stay with them, I won’t stand in your way. I’m certain you will have much to discuss from your time apart.”

“Mm that’s true,” she said, “It’s so good to see them all again.”

Maribelle opened her mouth and then pursed her lips, offering her an unconvincing smile instead. 

“Well, that’s settled then. I will see you in the morning?”

“Won’t you be busy?”

“Perhaps, but over breakfast, at least?” she asked, expression hopeful.

“Alright,” she murmured, unsure of how to handle the disconnect, Maribelle appearing equally uncomfortable. 

They leaned in for a hug, Maribelle giving her a chaste kiss on her cheek before making her way back into the main building.

~*~

As the sky grew darker, she spent the evening exchanging stories with the troupe in their corner of camp. Marisa left at one point to wrangle up the rest of their members before they could get themselves into mischief. That left just her and Tethys, the others already asleep. From what she had gathered, the last several days had been relentless marching. Their battles in Plegia less defined by victory and more about survival. A confusing ache had settled over her heart as she leaned against the older woman, her head resting on Tethys’s shoulder.

“So,” Tethys said, quiet enough to avoid disrupting the evening stillness, a chipped mug held loosely in her hands. “What was all that earlier?”

“Hmm?” 

“With the duchess and the taguel?” she asked, shifting in her seat, the contents of her cup lapping at the rim. “And more importantly, what about _you_ and the duchess?”

“Me?” Olivia said, lifting her head.

“Yes, you!” she affirmed, poking at her side. 

She bit her lip.

“I don’t know…”

“Sweet Olivia, I taught you better than to let such an opportunity slip through your fingers!”

“Tethys!” she hissed, burying her face in her hands. Surely her blush gave everything away. 

Tethys snickered.

“You can’t hide it from me, my dear. Besides, I went to find you after all the ruckus and you both were so cozy,” she teased. “But she did look rather put out when you parted ways.”

“You’re right. I think she’s worried and I guess I am, too. I had waited so long for you to return and now… ”

“Oh, Olivia,” Tethys said, placing her mug on the ground and pulling her close again, “That’s how it happens sometimes. Things change when you aren’t even looking. I promise we’d come to see you if you stayed. We’ll always welcome you back with open arms no matter what happens. But tell me, is that what you want?” 

She nodded, unable to respond without turning into a quivering mess and instead sniffled into the other woman’s shoulder as Tethys cooed reassurances.

“We’ll still be here in the morning,” Tethys promised, Olivia holding on tighter. After a time, she pulled back, arms wrapping around her knees as she held them to her chest.

“I got your shirt wet,” she said quietly.

“Oh, it’s been through worse,” Tethys responded with a light shrug of her shoulders and a flick of her hand, her bangles rattling with the movement. 

“She’s actually very sweet,” Olivia said after another pause, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Tethys grinned, her own eyes misty as well.

“I would say the same about Marisa.” 

They fell against each other, laughing uncontrollably and receiving a few disgruntled murmurs from sleeping bodies in response. The subject of their mirth reappeared just in time to witness the spectacle. The dancers that accompanied her rushed to their bedrolls, looking chastened.

“Is everything alright?” Marisa said once she sat next to Tethys, mouth slanted into a frown before she made an observation. “You were crying.”

Tethys redirected her affection to her partner as she kissed her cheek.

“Just talking about how wonderful you are.”

Olivia nodded her agreement. 

“Mm.”

“Did you happen to see the duchess on your patrol?” Tethys asked, glancing in Olivia’s direction. 

Marisa frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

“Yes, out by the main building.”

“Well, there you go, dear,” Tethys said, nudging Olivia’s shoulder.

“Thank you! Both of you!” Olivia said, hugging them one final time before she made her way back to the manor house.

~*~

She could certainly lift her herself, but that would bring about more questions that she wasn’t ready to answer. They had spent the evening in the front room of Lissa’s borrowed quarters reminiscing, the steward dropping by now and again with any inquiries that required her input. 

The princess had extracted more than a few confessions from her over the course of the night ranging from where they had left off before the taguel interrupted to some of her activities during their time apart. She promised to explain what the confrontation was about when the Exalt was well, Lissa’s nose wrinkling at the deferment. 

Light snoring interrupted her musings and she decided it was time to for Lissa to sleep in a real bed and not slumped over on a couch, leaning on Maribelle’s shoulder. 

“Lissa,” she whispered, gently prodding her. 

“Mwah? Murrble?” she mumbled into a yawn as she stretched her legs. “I guess I sacked out, huh?” 

Maribelle nodded, smiling fondly.

“I should’ve listened to you when you told me to take my riding lessons more seriously,” Lissa said as she stood, her movements sluggish. “After all that walking, I think I’ll go sleep for a week or two.”

She yawned again, blinking some of the sleep from her eyes before fixing Maribelle with a stern look.

“Anyway, when I wake up in another month, I want to hear all about how you swept Olivia off her feet.” 

“Yes, well, perhaps we can all chat over tea while you’re here.”

“Oooh, that would be perfect. No much in the way of good tea in the army.”

Maribelle made a scandalized sound at that.

“Under what kind of barbaric conditions have you been living, darling?” 

She vowed to have a talk with Chrom over the course of their stay and make some strong recommendations on army procurement, Lissa offering to back her up. They parted ways after another of Lissa’s comments was lost to yawn, her head drooping sleepily again. The company had served as a distraction, but now that she was alone again, restlessness overcame her. 

The thought of absconding into the woods to clear her head was an attractive one, but patrolling the grounds in the cold air under the semblance of checking in on various guests was the best she could do with so many eyes around. As camp quieted for the night, she found an empty pocket of space near the front path to continue her pacing, mulling over Lissa’s encouragement.

She sensed her before Olivia called her name, Maribelle stopping in her tracks. The moon watched over them as Olivia ran the remaining distance before wrapping her up into her arms.

“Yes, darling?” she asked, voice muffled against her shirt. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I should have asked if you were alright. I should have brought you to talk with the troupe. I—I,” she babbled.

Maribelle softened at the rambling, melting into her arms.

“It’s alright. I should have been bolder myself. Everything’s all happening at once and I wasn’t ready for it. I don’t want to push you into anything rash, but it pains me to consider letting you go.”

“I told Tethys,” Olivia said, “I told her I wanted to stay. Here. With you.”

“You would stay with me?” 

“If—if that’s alright,” Olivia said. 

“The bandits might be gone, but fiends still lurk the woods,” she cautioned.

“I’d rather face them by your side,” Olivia replied.

“I can be difficult, you know. Prickly even,” she insisted, a tentative smile blooming on her face.

“I love you, thorns and all,” she said with her own smile that was bright as the moonlight. Maribelle seized her close at the proclamation, Olivia’s arms reaching to encircle her back.

“I could kiss you right now,” she murmured into Olivia’s shoulder, her heart thrumming in her chest. “I would have missed you fiercely.” 

A hand cupped her cheek, gently angling her face up until their lips met. She rested her hands on Olivia’s waist, falling further into her as the kiss deepened. 

~*~

They joined the army in a final confrontation across the border, Maribelle with staves and tomes and Olivia never far from her side. The troupe wintered in Themis. As it snowed under the light of the long night moon, they revealed themselves to Olivia’s family. Tethys took to the change as well as Olivia had to Maribelle’s wolf months before, but the surprise left Marisa awestruck even as she later claimed to have guessed for herself. 

They all traveled to Ylisstol in the spring where the Exalt was wed to the captain of her guard, the troupe invited officially as performers. There they parted ways, but not before Lalum assigned herself to be a member of Olivia’s future wedding party with a meaningful look in the direction of the duchess. 

With the blessing of the Exalt, the wolves watched over Themis for many years after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.:') Happy Femslash February and thanks for reading this AU. Extra thanks to everyone who has done prereading, left kudos and/or comments. If I ever returned to this setting, I'd probably do something from Flora's perspective, but for now I'm going to rest a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Marilivia chat without which this probably wouldn't exist. Went through a few months of writer's block and we were playing with some prompts and this one seemed entertaining enough. Special thanks to L (for everything), Smitty (please check out her works over at [engineDriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engineDriver)) and Louise. <3


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